


The Language of Flowers

by Komatsu



Category: Bravely Default (Video Game) & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Prostitution, Sexual Content, and not his head either, but sometimes he thinks with stuff aside from his heart, but there is also hints of Ringabel/Edea, mostly Ringabel/OC, we know where his heart truly lies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-17 12:34:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11851674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Komatsu/pseuds/Komatsu
Summary: Florem has always been the land of flowers, known for their beauty and their purity. However, the toxins of the Blood Rose Legion have poisoned the gardens. Now, many of the flowers in Florem are only beautiful on the surface, even those that hide in the shadows in the underbelly of the region. While heading home from the bar one night, Ringabel meets one such pretty flower and gets to know her, in both his way and her own. Finding his heart conflicted over that budding relationship, and his deep love for Edea, he attempts to find a balance for both.





	1. Azalea

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest guys I’m not even sure what happened here. I meant to write a short little fic but instead produced this monstrosity. I wanted a cute story about Ringabel bringing joy to the life of someone down on their luck in Florem, but then he took it and ran it off into a whole ‘nother direction.
> 
> There will be additional updates to this, to further flesh out the story (and the tags, as you can see above). Ringabel's heart is always true. It's just sometimes it gets him in a bit of trouble.

Florem, the country of flowers. Pretty, lovely flowers, he thought giddily. Pretty, lovely flowers that enticed him with their lovely scents… and their lovely booze. It was like a city that never slept, and so Ringabel never slept either, staying out on many nights late so that he could drink and socialize. Gather information, he liked to claim, had this not been the third time their group first set foot into the land. They were familiar with it by now.

Ringabel hummed to himself as he walked slowly along, a tuneless sound that served only to fill the quiet night, and help him focus so that he didn’t stumble drunkenly about, unseemly! At this late hour, there was hardly anyone in the streets, save for women and men like himself who were heading home from the numerous bars that the city offered. Now and then, as he stumbled along, he thought he spotted young women leaning against buildings, hiding in the shadows while they waited to be approached by the travelers who frequented Florem.

Seeing those girls made him frown. While they may have been a been a bit more painted and made up than his preference, it still troubled him that anyone would have to resort to such drastic measures in order to survive. And yet, there was a part of him that felt it was familiar, though it should not have been. After all, Florem had been a nation that had followed Crystalist ideals. Perhaps makeup and hair dye and Florie hairpins were expensive, and ladies had to resort to desperate measures, but in the past… what had there been…?

His head ached thinking about his past. It was something that he still was not keen on facing. He was already going to have a headache from his drinking, he did not need a headache due to thinking too much on top of that.

Unfortunately, he should have thought, because his next action was to walk up to the nearest young lady that he noticed hanging out near an alleyway. As he approached her, he looked her over- she was attractively full figured, with long, tumbling hair and clothing that seemed slightly inappropriate for the weather. The skirt was short, the edges of the linen folded up to mid-thigh, leaving a large swath of her legs uncovered before her stockings started just above her knees and leading to high-heeled boots that looked a mite uncomfortable to stand in. Her bodice looked like sturdy, reliable leather that hugged her waist, but her top also seemed to be made of linen, the neckline of it folded and curled and deep, right above her cleavage. Her arms were bare, though she did have a thin shawl draped around her shoulders that she clutched tightly around her.

No, that absolutely wouldn’t do. He had do something about her.

“Hello my dear,” he said as he approached, attempting to sound cheerful, and ignoring the slight slur to his words; surely he wasn’t that drunk! “How are you? It’s a good evening, isn’t it?”

The woman eyed him, taking a step back on the sidewalk. “What do you want?” It seemed she had dealt with her fair amount of drunken men, either tonight or before, but he wasn’t the same, was he? Ringabel peered down closely at her, trying to focus on her face and not the large amount of cleavage she was displaying. Her large eyes were a very pretty shade of cobalt, surrounded by long lashes, and they seemed almost alien on a face that was pale and tired in the lamplight. A plump mouth frowned at him, her arched and overplucked eyebrows furrowing as she waited for him to answer. Strands of her purple-dyed hair curled over her chin, and over her shoulders, down her chest and - he looked back up into her eyes with a slight smile… then realized he hadn’t yet answered her.

“Not what you think,” he declared, raising his own eyebrow at her. “I just want to … talk.” He cleared his throat, hoping to chase out some of the smell of alcohol on his breath.

She looked astonished for a moment, black eyebrows rising into lilac hair, before her expression settled back down. “‘Talk’”, she said, the quotations practically visible in her voice. “You just want to talk.”

Ringabel nodded, firm on this. “Have you eaten? We could get something, if you would like.”

The girl growled in frustration, looking past him and shifting restlessly on the heels of her boots. “This is a waste of my time,” she told him. “Go away.”

“There’s hardly anyone else around.” It was the middle of the night, after all. Too late for nighttime activities, but not early enough for businesses to begin opening. He had seen other men wandering around, but like him, they had been heading for their inns. He doubted she’d get another customer, if she’d had any earlier in the night.

“Coffee then,” he decided when she didn’t reply. He could spare enough for coffee and a good meal. “You must be freezing.”

It was early winter in Florem, and while the region was usually somewhat warm this time of year, at night there could be a chill. He knew - had known - that chill well, many years ago, and it made him glad he was wearing his jacket. She should have known the chill well as well; he couldn’t imagine why she was out without better protection from the elements!

She glanced sidelong at him, but still remained silent. He pushed on, the booze still lingering his system giving him courage. “If you come and talk to me, I’ll pay you for your time. Your  _time_  and nothing else, I swear it.” Hand on his heart. He wouldn’t pay a woman for her 'services’, but her  _time_ was different, wasn’t it? Unlike the last time, when he had accidentally asked a working girl out, he knew how to handle her fees.  It would be like a date, just a date that was a tad more expensive.

“Fine,” she said immediately. “It’s a base two hundred pg for a half hour.”

Ringabel nodded. He could do that. He held his hand out to her. “Shall we be off, then?”

After a moment’s hesitation, she laid her slender, cold fingers in his.

Her name, he learned, was Camelia. At least, that was the name that she gave him as they walked through the alleys toward a coffeehouse that she said was open throughout the night. She was 20, unmarried, and she had a younger sister she was currently supporting after their mother had passed away six months earlier from illness. She worked two jobs, including her “night job”, and odd jobs on top of those so that she could pay her sister’s education and keep a roof over their heads.

“You’ve had a hard time of it,” he said sympathetically as the two of them sat on some crates with steaming cups of coffee. She had refused to enter the establishment with him, claiming that she didn’t want to be seen by anyone she knew, and had waited for him several stores down before leading him to a trash collection area. It smelled, but if he put the cup under his nose, he barely noticed. “Still, I’m impressed by your spirit.”

“It’s nothing,” she replied, staring down into the cup she cradled in her hands. He had wrapped his jacket around her shoulders, but she still looked quite cold.

“No, no it’s true,” Ringabel insisted with a flourish of his hands. “You are a good, dutiful daughter and sister, wanting only what is best for others and not yourself. You are truly a beautiful person, inside and out.”

The dim streetlamps barely lit up her face, but he was certain she was flushing. “Be quiet, you,” she threatened, though her lips twitched. “There is hardly anything beautiful about me, especially with this dye in my hair - it attracts customers, but doesn’t it clash terribly?”

“That is a tragedy,” he agreed. He knew how horrible those dyes were, not just in color but in formula, and that worried him for her. “You should grow it out. Natural is better, they’ll see.”

She took a sip of her coffee instead of replying to him. Rather than deal with awkward silence, he did the same. Ah, coffee. It was helping him sober up.

… and he was starting to hope that none of his friends were going to wonder where he was and come looking for him. It might be hard to explain why he was keeping company with a beautiful lady of the night.

“And what about you?” Camelia asked him once a third of her cup was drained. “You said you only wanted to talk, but what are you  _really_  after? What do you want?”

“I truly mean only to talk,” he argued. “I see a beautiful woman in distress and I must come to her aid!”

“Ah,” she said, as though understanding, and she took another long drink with a knowing smile aimed at him over the rim. “That’s what you’re into. The roleplay. You’ll want me to thank you later.”

“It is not roleplay! I swear to you that I am not interested in … in sex,” he finally hissed, and he hated how she smirked at his blush. “I mean what I say. I’m a lover and  _defender_  of women world over. I grew up in Florem. I’ve seen my fair share of people down on their luck.”

… he’d said too much, hadn’t he? Her face showed shock.

“You grew up in Florem? But you’re a man!” She looked him over, as though wanting to check, and he found himself having to intercept a curious hand, hastily pushing it back over to her side.

“I am a man - and I was born one. But I was also born here, in Florem. Surely this cannot be all that surprising to you.” Not if she was from the poor areas of the city.

Camelia withdrew to hold her coffee cup once more. “No, it isn’t,” she confessed. “I’ve known plenty of girls who’ve had boy babies, and I’ve seen some of the urchins running around. Boys aren’t supposed to be here, but it’s hardly possible to keep them all out.”

“Right.” His headache was coming back again. He drank some more coffee.

“It’s just - I’ve never heard of any of our boys surviving to adulthood, is all.” She was looking him over once again. “You look healthy… clean… handsome. It’s hard to believe you’re from here.”

“I left,” Ringabel said slowly, because even he wasn’t sure if that’s how it happened. He had only just begun to regain his memories, and dwelling on them too much only gave him pain. Pain he didn’t want to experience right now, not in this company, and not when he hadn’t had enough to drink to deal with it. “Many, many years ago.”

“That explains it,” she nodded. “Boys do leave, I’ve heard. Most of them don’t come back, and who can blame them?” She shook her head as though thinking of why anyone would want to return to a place that held such painful memories for them. Ringabel had to agree, but sometimes things were more important than one’s own comfort. She should know that.

They were both comfortably silent for a while before Camelia spoke again. “My mother had a boy, you know. Well, you don’t know. He was younger than me though. She never told me what became of him, if she knew. She didn’t like to talk about him much.”

“I would imagine your story is not uncommon,” Ringabel said, more to himself than to her. He remembered more than a few young boys in the same slums that he had spent his childhood in. They had banded together for survival at times, fought each other for resources at others. What had become of those boys, he wondered. Had they become men and left for better countries, or had they died a painful, lonely death in Florem? Did he want to know? “After all, it’s natural to have boy children world over.”

“You’re right,” she agreed, sipping at her coffee. “I know plenty of girls who’ve had boys; my best friend just had a baby boy. It’s not as taboo now as it used to be, luckily, but I think Florem… still has a long way to go.” She trailed off in thought, looking off into the distance.

“Most girls I’ve met have embraced the new Florem,” he commented, confused. His girlfriends - ex-girlfriends - had enjoyed the new fashion conscious city. They had raved about the changes and how it made their lives easier. He knew the underlying toxins beneath it, of course, but had thought that with all the advances and innovations, the region was overall improving in most ways. Certainly, on the surface it was much more friendly to all.

Camelia smiled wryly at him. “Most girls you’ve met probably aren’t working girls, selling themselves just to get by, because half the Crystalist temples that offered charity have closed, and the other half have become clothing stores.”

He winced. She was right, of course. He remembered that the largest employer and support of the people had been the Crystalist temples. They had taken donations from the better-off to give to those less fortunate, and helped find work for those who needed it. Where had that network gone, if the religion had been run out by the Blood Rose Legion? The increased number of the desperate made sense. “You’ve a point,” he conceded, then tried to change the subject. “What is your other job?” He hoped it wasn’t something just as desperate.

“Tailor,” she replied promptly, and proudly. “My mother taught me how to sew, so I work at Miss Cinnamon’s Sew and Tell with a load of other girls, and we make adjustments and repairs on clothes.”

“That’s hard work.” Ringabel was impressed. Edea knew how to sew too, but they were so busy that she didn’t do much of it. Still, he’d seen Edea make repairs on clothing and sew her own dresses now and then - it took time and effort and  _patience_  that she didn’t always have. “It doesn’t pay well?”

“No, well… the shop owner takes most of the fees per our contract. And then we only get paid for the amount of clothes that we finished that week, so there’s never a guarantee how much you’ll get. Still, it’s fun, and we get discounts on cloth, so I make clothes for my sister and myself. I made my dress, you know.” She leaned back so that he could admire it, jutting out her chest slightly as she arched her back and posed.

He tried not to make his admiration of her chest overt, though his eyes did linger for the smallest of moments on the curves that he could see hidden under the linen. “It’s nicely made,” he replied. “Though a bit… scarce.”

“It’s like that for a reason,” she said, rolling her eyes at him. But there was a slight smile on her face all the same as she toyed with a lock of her bright hair. “I can use the folds to adjust the length and the neckline. In case a city guard comes around, and I need to duck into indoors and look almost respectable.”

“You are respectable,” Ringabel told her. “You’re a pretty young lady, and you have a good heart. It’s your personality and not your job that defines who you are.”

The look Camelia gave him was almost pitying. “Oh, Ringabel. You’re a strange man, aren’t you?”

“I am not,” he insisted, a bit offended. “It’s true! It’s not always a person’s actions that make them respectable, especially when those actions were made as the result of having little choices. You’ve done what you felt is best for your sister, and it can’t have been an easy decision. Your intentions are what matter, at least to me.”

Camelia did not reply to him immediately, and he worried that he may have offended  _her_ with his insistence.  _He_  felt it was certainly true - unlike other women who may have sold themselves to gain money for material items or drugs, she was doing it for someone else’s gain, and not her own. In his book, that made her a good person, albeit someone who had fallen on hard, hopeless times.

The woman’s cup was almost empty, and she set it down so that she could use one of the folds at her neckline to dab at her eyes. He worried even further; he hadn’t meant to make her  _cry_. “It’s nothing,” she said, when she noticed his gaze. “It’s just that - no one worries about each other anymore here, in Florem. Every woman for herself, and all in the pursuit of beauty. You are very odd here, and not just because you’re a man. I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”

He could hardly tell her that he was working with the Wind Vestal, and that Agnes wanted to change the deplorable morals that had ran rampant in the region, a goal he supported with all his soul. Instead, he took a deep breath. “It will get better, I promise,” was all he could say, trying to sound sure of himself. Once they cleaned up Florem and removed the terrible poison that the Blood Rose Legion was, the community would begin to heal and help one another again. He hoped.

“Maybe some day. I’m putting money into savings, so… maybe one day I won’t have to do this anymore.” Her arms wrapped around her knees, and she leaned over, his jacket slipping down her small shoulders.

“I’m sure you won’t,” he assured her, attempting to flash her his best, widest smile. “Perhaps one day you’ll even open up your own shop.”

She returned that smile to him, wistful and sad. “My mother used to say the same thing. It was a dream of hers, ever since she was young. She had us, instead.”

His heart was breaking. He never liked to see any woman sad if he could help it. It was ingrained in him to help all those damsels in distress, to see smiles on pretty faces. Here was a woman whom he could not help, not for long, not permanently. She may have coffee now and warmth, and a friendly person to speak to, but he knew tomorrow night she’d be back on the streets, trying to earn money with her body.  He wished there was something more he could do.

“I'm… sure of it.” He found his voice to speak, only to weakly repeat himself. He swallowed and tried again. “With your good heart and your perseverance, you will have that shop of yours, my dear Camelia. Perhaps not now, or soon but… someday. Someday, you’ll be able to pursue what you truly desire.”

She was quiet, looking down at her knees.

It was getting late, he realized after they had sat in silence for some time. Or early, depending on how one looked at it.

“Here.”

Ringabel finally pulled his wallet out of his pocket and rifled through it. Immediately, Camelia reached into her bodice and retrieved a small purse.

Feeling a bit indecent over it, only imagining how blackened Edea would think he was if she were to see him now, he emptied his wallet out into his hand, counting out the pg. Tiz only gave him so much to spend freely every week, and he’d spent most of it already on drink and clothes. Still, there was more than enough for her hourly fee - he wondered how long they had been talking - and with plenty to spare.

“Here,” he said again, handing the pg in his hand to her. She brought it close and counted it out; he watched her full lips move as she said the numbers aloud. “This will go toward opening that shop of yours, won’t it?” She needed it more than he did; he could go without drinking for a few days.

When she looked up at him, her eyes were shiny in the streetlights. “You’re such an odd man, Ringabel… are you certain you want to give all of this to me?”

He swallowed. Had she ever asked a customer of hers if he was certain about his payment before? “I am sure.” He nodded firmly. “It’s all yours.”

She slid the money into her purse, and he noted that her hands were shaking as the purse was pushed back into its hiding spot in her bodice. “Thank you,” she finally said after a few moments. “Truly, thank you. When you approached me earlier I thought you would be just another foolish drunkard, but you’re a much better person than that. Do you have a girlfriend?”

The question caught him entirely off guard. In the middle of finishing up his coffee, Ringabel inhaled sharply on his swallow, winced, then coughed, covering his mouth with a hand to keep from spraying her. He hacked as he tried to clear his airways, turning away and letting that good coffee dribble on the ground. What a mess.

“Ringabel!” Camelia was on her feet, dabbing at him with a handkerchief she had produced from the folds of her skirt. Her other hand was pushing his shoulder to get him to straighten up. He shook his head, eyes watering, as he tried to regain some dignity.

“M'fine,” he choked out, pushing her hand away. His fingers closed over hers; they were much warmer now. “Just - I’m fine.”

The woman’s face was red as she pushed the handkerchief at him once more. He took it from her to mop his face. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, swallowing. His throat felt off, scalded by the coffee going down far too quickly. He’d have to be careful not to strain it until he could drink a potion. “I was… distracted.” Yes, distracted. Great answer. He glanced at her.

Her face was red, and a lovely blush had spread across her chest as well. She noticed him looking, and crossed her arms, pushing her cleavage up in the process. “You are easily distracted, it seems.”

He sincerely hoped that she didn’t think the money he had just given her was for anything but her time and companionship. “As to your question,” he started, changing the subject before she could accuse him of having anything less than pure and honest intentions, “I am currently not seeing anyone.”

“Oh.”

“I… don’t feel I can,” he confessed. At least, he didn’t feel he could right now. He’d had plenty of girlfriends in Florem before, but that had been months ago. A whole world ago, what felt like a lifetime now, when he had been fully ignorant as to his past and his ties to the country, and when he hadn’t worried about Edea falling to a monstrous beast, or his friends dying because of his failures, or the world being destroyed if he were to slip in his duties. While he had previously made it quite clear to any and all girls he dated that the group were in Florem temporarily, he had also promised to devote himself entirely to his current girlfriend while they were together.

He didn’t think he could promise that any longer. It wouldn’t be fair to the girls, and it wouldn’t be fair to the friends he loved dearly.

Besides, he could still be an admirer of women, even if he wasn’t in a committed relationship.

“Why is - oh, I won’t ask,” Camelia decided, shaking her head. “We all have our reasons, don’t we? For what we do, though we may loathe it.”

His breath quickened for the briefest of moments. She understood, of course she understood. And while it was tempting, he knew that she deserved a man who would truly love her, support her, and care for her for longer than the few weeks than he would be in town. She would find that man some day, and Ringabel would be glad for her. Still, it was hard to deny the urge to leap to protect her, to promise her the world as he had done in the past to other women.

“While I’m in town,” he finally said, and she perked up. “While I’m in town, perhaps you and I can meet for coffee on other occasions? In the daylight this time, perhaps. Or at night again, if you would like.”

He paused.

“Coffee only. I don’t pay women for their services.”

Just to clear up any misunderstandings.

She smiled at him, a true smile this time, one that was gracious and sincere and made his heart ache in his chest. “I would like that. Thanks, Ringabel.” She tugged his jacket tightly around herself for a moment before slipping it off her shoulders and handing it back to him. “I should begin to head back home, though. It’s nearly dawn, and I need to change for the shop.”

“I’ll escort you,” he said as he pulled his jacket back on, leaving it open in the front for now. “It’s hardly safe for such a beautiful young lady to walk alone at night.”

Camelia laughed and rolled her eyes warmly at him, causing his heart to flutter strangely, before she took his offered arm in her hands. “An escort home, too? I  _am_ becoming respectable, aren’t I?”

“Every day a bit more,” he said cheerfully, covering one of her hands with his own. “Lead the way, dear.”

Together, they headed off into the darker parts of the area that he felt he may know quite well. Older and dirtier, and more worn, it was the part of the city where the less fortunate lived, and where tourists never ventured. Though their voices were quiet in attempts to stave off any attention, they chatted amicably about the weather and the plants as they strolled, as though this were an early evening walk in the park instead of an early morning escort after a night out. While he couldn’t see the horizon, this deep in the city’s walls, the sky overhead was lightening to a paler shade of blue. Dawn couldn’t be that far off. He hoped he could get some sleep before his friends roused; his head still ached dully.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Camelia said when they reached their destination, a small shack in a neighborhood on the outskirts of the slums. Small but sturdy, it was surrounded by others very similar, with a number worn into the wooden doorframe. “I have to go to work soon, so it’ll help.” Her hands dropped from his arm, and she pulled away from him with a smile.

“The pleasure was all mine,” he said with a slight bow as the woman pulled out a key from her bodice. He waited for her to get inside, only for her to pause as she unlocked the door to the shack.

“Is it? … Is it truly?” Looking around the area, as though searching for nosy neighbors, she suddenly grabbed his hand, and before he could shout in surprise, she had pulled him indoors. Heat immediately rushed to his head, building as she closed the door behind him and practically pressed him against it. He looked at her confused and concerned. Her face was lit only by the scant light coming through the dusty windows.

“W-wha? Camelia, I - ” his protest was shushed with a finger as her other hand caressed the front of his trousers, sparking further heat both in his face and his groin. He’d  _meant_  what he’d said about not wanting her services. He would never degrade any woman in such a way…

“You paid for the coffee, and for the talk,” she said, smiling. “This is free.” When her finger slipped away, he meant to argue, to insist that she didn’t need to use her body to repay him, but in an instant her lips were over his and the protest died. He groaned into her mouth as her tongue quested against his lips, seeking passage. He granted it after the slightest hesitation, meeting her tongue with his own as their bodies pressed together against the flimsy door. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so close to another person, and he was only human. The rational part of his brain told him to push her gently away, that she was just lonely, but another part of him… was just as lonely, and begged for the attention, waking at the feeling of the woman’s soft breasts moving against his chest. With his jacket open, he could easily feel hard nipples pressing through the linen of their clothes as she squirmed against him.

“This wasn’t what I set out to do,” he murmured against her lips when they broke for air. She was unbuckling the front of his pants for him, her fingers deft as she made quick work of the belt and buttons. Her fingers brushed against a growing bulge as she worked to reveal it and he shivered. “I mean it when I say I didn’t pay for this.”

“I know you do,” Camelia replied, kissing him again with a smile. This time her lips lingered against his longer, sucking on his bottom lip before she drew away. His tongue flickered out to catch hers; he felt dazed, foggy. “It’s been a long time since anyone made me feel worth anything, Ringabel. You’ve done so much for me tonight, let me do this for you. Please.” His pants slid down toward the floor, and when her palm made full contact to the tent forming in his drawers, his eyelashes fluttered and his hips rocked instinctively into her touch.

How could he possibly resist to such a tender request? No, he had to resist, at least somewhat. “No sex,” he murmured as he initiated the kiss this time, raising his hands to cup her face. Their tongues curled and twisted together for a long moment, their lips moving eagerly together. She leaned into his touch, her fingernails stroking up the clothed sides of his bulging erection and he lost his voice. “No intercourse,” he managed to moan when he could, his teeth clacking against hers. He didn’t want to go that far, wanted to save  _that_ for a certain someone.

The woman nodded her agreement before she kissed him again, slipping her tongue deep into his mouth with a soft sigh of his name. One of his hands moved to the back of her head to cradle it, the other hand moved to the woman’s small waist so that he could hold her close to him, let her lean her form against his own. She was warm and soft against him, practically snuggling into his embrace even as she continued to stroke him through the fabric of his drawers. As their kisses built in intensity, tongues and lips fiercely thrusting and suckling and tangling together so well he nearly lost track of who was who, he felt her giggle suddenly. The contrast between her hand, business like and experienced, and the way her body shook against him aroused him even more. His drawers were so tight it was now deliciously painful, and he moaned loudly, his hand drifting down so he could squeeze her ample rear and pull her close to him. Grinding himself against her thigh relieved some of the pain.

“My sister is still asleep,” she whispered when they finally pulled apart, her kiss swollen lips hot against his own. A string of saliva, thick and alluring, stretched between them for a long moment. She squeezed his cock in her fingers and he gasped; the string broke. “We’ll have to do this here, and be quiet.”

He would agree to nearly anything if she kept touching him like that. Mutely, he nodded and leaned his head back against the door as the woman kissed him again, briefly, then moved to kneel in front of him. Her tongue left wet spots on the front of his straining drawers as she lavished him through the cotton fabric, sending more pain and pleasure spiraling up in his spine in a confusing sort of way that left him moaning her name and begging her for mercy.

He thought he saw her smile at that, but she seemed to take pity on him all the same, hooking her fingers in the waistband of his drawers and pulling it down off his hips, letting the stiff waistband drag along his erection until his cock popped free, half-hard and begging for attention. She let his drawers now drop to the floor to join his pants before wrapping her hand around his shaft and giving him a deliberate stroke from head to base, her grip wonderfully firm. It felt like heaven compared to just moments earlier. He moaned, loudly, before remembering himself and biting his lip to stifle his noise. She kissed his thigh in return.

Camelia was an expert at this, and it was with an expert hand that she touched him. She knew how to twist her wrist at the right angle at the right speed as she pumped his length in her fist, dragging the skin gently with her. Her grip was just right; not too light and not too firm, and she used the tiniest amount of pressure from her nails to give him extra stimulation that had him spreading his legs for stability before he fell.

“ _Yes_ ,” he breathed, trying to be quiet as the woman increased the pace of her hand, encouraging his hardness as his pulse hammered in her palm. Pleasure was boiling red-hot in his belly, building below his navel and at the very base of his turgid cock. Had doing this to himself ever felt so good? No!

Then he once again nearly forgot their agreement, biting hard on his lip to swallow his moan of pure  _bliss_ as the woman before him give one long, deliberate lick to the tip of his straining cock, pushing his foreskin back to fully reveal the most sensitive parts of him. Already red and wet with his need, she made it even wetter with her distressingly hot tongue that now chased the curves of the head, tracing the underside before she took it entirely into her mouth. He did moan then,  _quietly_ , reaching down with both of his hands to cradle her head as she began to suck him, her mouth swallowing him down halfway before she pulled back  _slowly_ , the pressure of her lips and tongue positively exquisite on his needy cock. Over and over she went down, then up, sucking and licking his length until she’d nearly taken the entirety of it. Only once she seemed to have reached her limit did she speed up the motions of her mouth to a near frenzy, one hand curled around the base of his straining member for stability as her lips engulfed him again and again.

Not wanting to come too quickly, Ringabel closed his eyes and desperately tried to think of anything but the feeling of Camelia’s plush lips, her molten mouth, her slick tongue working along the length of his piece like pure liquid heat caressing him. The messy noises her mouth made around his member were obscene and deceptively loud in the quiet of the small home; the little hums and moans he felt her make around him could not be drowned out by the sound of his ragged breaths and the pounding of his heart in his ears. The beautiful woman before him was sucking out the heat he felt in his core, drawing raw pleasure from his chest and from the back of his head as she bobbed up and down his cock, making him feel like putty in her hands (though on fire in her mouth). As he felt his thighs tense up with anticipation, and with the feelings around and inside him more intense than anything he’d ever felt before, he knew he would soon be a wilting mess of a man in front of this beautiful, talented woman. Ringabel sighed to himself, and opened his eyes, wanting to see the lovely girl’s face one more time before he came for her.

She smiled up at him, her mouth full of his cock, her chin messy with saliva and fluids, dripping down her chest to where he realized she’d opened up her shirt. His eyes were drawn to the erotic movement of her full, swaying breasts; they were now fully visible, her nipples a dusky brown and rock hard. The hand that wasn’t moving at the base of his member was pressed between her kneeling, open legs, and the idea that she was pleasuring herself to him was what finally sent him careening off the edge.

He wondered for a split second if it was considered impolite to curl his fingers in her hair and rock his hips against her mouth as he came, but if it was, it was too late to correct that behaviour. He was silent through it, his breath catching in his throat as his body shook with released delight. That heat that had been coiled in the core of his belly was springing undone and draining out of him, right into Camelia’s mouth, her lips pursed around the wet, weeping head of his cock so that nothing spilled.

He went nearly limp as soon as his orgasm was over, and gently untangled his fingers gently from her hair as he caught his breath. Once he’d pulled his hands away, and his cock began to soften in her mouth, she slipped her lips  off of him and carefully spit his come out into a handkerchief as she stood. “Sorry, it’s extra to swallow,” she explained, then gave him a grin and kiss, holding his mouth for a long moment with her own. When he slipped his tongue between her swollen lips, he could taste the saltiness of his release lingering in her mouth. For a few long moments, Ringabel held her tightly as he waited for his pulse to settle in his ears. She held him in return, their kiss sensuous but slow.

“You didn’t need to do this,” he still argued softly once they had gently parted again, despite the fact that true exhaustion was beginning to overtake him. All he wanted to do was sleep. He’d been up all night and now  _this._.. his friends were going to give him hell once he collapsed back at the inn, and he would never be able to explain it.

“I didn’t,” she agreed, pushing some of her disheveled hair away from her face and smiling bashfully at him. It made it almost hard to believe the same woman had just been on her knees before him. “But Ringabel… you say I should pursue what I want, so… is it alright if this was what I wanted?”

He had said that, hadn’t he? His eyelids felt heavy, and his head felt light in the aftermath of his orgasm. At least it no longer ached. “Yes,” he decided, with a slow blink, and fought a yawn as he cradled her face with one hand.

Camelia’s smile was brilliant in the dim light of the dawn peeking through the windows. “Maybe I’ll want to do it again some other time. But I think you need to sleep now. Goodnight, Ringabel. You’ll know where to find me.”

Pulling up his underwear and pants, Ringabel kissed his new friend goodbye one last time before leaving, glancing around the area quickly to ensure he could stay at least somewhat out of sight before he staggered off to the inn, his friends, and blessed sleep.

Of all the pretty flowers in Florem, he would certainly remember this one.


	2. Jonquil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camelia is a girl unlike the previous Florem women he had dated. Ringabel knows this, because he sneaks out every night to talk to her. One night, their talks become a little more.

"Why here?" Tiz asked the next Firesday, as he helped Ringabel carry the second basket of clothes. "Edea or I can both mend clothes just as well." He was huffing along as he followed the other man.

Ringabel's face was red from the exertion of carrying a basket full of clothes halfway across town. Due to the large amount of battles they fought regularly, there was plenty of clothing to mend and when Tiz had settled down to work on it the previous night, he'd had an idea. "I know," he said. "However, I met a lovely girl who works here, and she's quite good."

Tiz's face said it all. "Oh, it's for a girl," he said flatly.

What was this accusation?! Ringabel attempted to look innocent. "She needs the work, alright? There's no harm in outsourcing our mending… even you have to admit it's quicker this way." Without doing the mending, Tiz could spend his time on other things, like organizing potions or whittling wood or whatever it was that Tiz did in his free time.

Cinnamon's Sew and Tell was a tiny shop that was set in an older, slightly run down shopping district. Surrounded on both sides by pharmacies, he nearly missed it at first - part of the sign was coming down. Leaving Tiz outside with their clothes for now, Ringabel entered alone to check it out.

The majority of the shop space was an area filled with tables, most of those covered in baskets that held various clothing items. Each table also had a sewing machine and a young woman attending to it. Upon his entrance, half of their youthful faces looked up at him. He could barely hear over the sound of the machines working, though many of the women slowed down now that they could see a potential new customer.

"Are you looking for a tailor?" An older woman asked from the register in front of the window. He turned to look at her. She sat on a short stool as she organized baskets of clothing on the tables and shelves surrounding her, glancing at paper tags on neatly tied bundles of clothing and writing the numbers down in a ledger. Her assistant stood nearby, blonde and petite, and already reaching for a paper tag. 

"Yes," he replied, and immediately several of the girls in the room stood to approach, all of them calling dibs on the mending. It was overwhelming, to his surprise. He was never one to complain about the attention of young women, but… it was a good thing Tiz was waiting outside. "Actually," he said loudly, as the girls began to squabble over whose turn it was. "I believe a young lady named Camelia Lanseur works here? She… she promised to help me with my clothes if I brought them here," he slightly fibbed.

In this shop, there were several women with dyed hair, a veritable sea of green and blue and purples. One of those purple heads looked his way at the sound of her name, a smile breaking out onto her face. "Oh, Ringabel!"  She made her way to him past the girls who were standing watching,  a chorus of complaints rising from the crowd.

"Camelia," the woman he guessed was Miss Cinnamon said as the younger girl approached, bringing with her a basket full of items. "You know this man?"

"Yes," Camelia replied, giving him a sunny smile that made his heart leap. "We met last week, I… I had lost my shawl to the wind, and he gave me his jacket to keep me warm. That's all."

Ringabel gave Miss Cinnamon his best smile, nodding. "That cold front last week was terrible, wasn't it? I couldn't just let a young lady wander around without a jacket. While we tried to find her shawl, I ended up buying her coffee and she told me about this lovely establishment of yours. I do have clothes to mend, and I'm no good with a needle."

"We're always taking new customers," Miss Cinnamon replied now, seemingly pacified that he and Camelia were not in some sordid relationship. The girls in the shop still mumbled their displeasure, though they began to wander back to their workstations. "Camelia, are you taking the work?"

"Of course I am, ma'am." Camelia smiled at him and her supervisor both before that smile faded. "Oh, but… I don't see the clothes."

"They're outside," Ringabel said. "I - my companion had to help me carry them over." Moving outside the door to grab one basket, he gestured Tiz inside. Camelia held the door open as both men carried their burdens in, her eyes widening.

"It's not as much as it seems," he assured her, wondering if she was shocked. "Most of this was torn in battle, so the cloth is thick for protection. We just don't have the time to mend it all." Not when there was at least one torn item every battle.

The shop assistant came over now with a clipboard with several sheets of paper attached. "Fill this out," the blonde girl ordered, handing it to him. She and Camelia both knelt to begin to organize the piles of clothing.

Ringabel and Tiz sat on stools on the side of the shop as the older boy filled out the paperwork, asking Tiz for help when needed. It was a simple list of what they needed done with this mending. What types of fabric there were… a variety, from silk to leather to cotton. If anything required washing… that was a yes, as some of the clothes had blood on them from fights. Any special instructions… no, nothing. Right?

The other girls in the shop seemed interested, continuously wandering or looking over as Camelia and the blonde girl continued to sort the clothes out into smaller, more manageable, baskets, and as he glanced up from the long list of questions, Ringabel could see Tiz flushing under the attention. "I told you it was a good idea to come here," he teased the younger boy, his voice loud to be heard over the clack of the machines. "You'll come with me again to pick them up, won't you?"

Tiz mumbled as he nudged Ringabel in the side. "Why don't you ask Edea for help?" Ringabel stuck his tongue out at him and went back to finishing up the questionnaire.

"It will be done by noon on Goldday, including the washing," the shop assistant said as he handed her back the clipboard. She took it from him and filled in some figures she had written down herself. "You may ask for Camelia or myself - I'm Annette, by the way - and we'll ring you up. You may come back any time anytime after noon that day, though we charge extra if you're longer than seven days past the agreed pick-up date. We don't have room for much storage."

"Understood." That seemed reasonable. Goldday was three days out, and should give her ample time to complete everything. He signed the contract as well as handed over the pg for the initial fee. Camelia was already carrying over the baskets of clothing to her work station, and he watched her move, her slender arms straining slightly as hauled she hauled the work in several trips. Today, she wore a pink slip of a dress with a modest neckline and a small bodice, with short sleeves that revealed much of her strong biceps. The length of the dress came to just below her knees, billowing out with her movements. Her hair was piled up on top of her head in a messy sort of bun, leaving pale strands to trail along the back of her neck.

Tiz noticed him looking, but said nothing until the door of the shop was closed behind them and their now empty baskets, muffling the sounds of the sewing machines. "I think next time you really should bring Edea here to help you carry the clothes. You know she's stronger than I. In fact, I'll ask her for you."

Ringabel made a face at him. "Tiz, where is your sense of brotherhood!"

-

"Thank you," Camelia said that night as he handed her the cup of coffee with a slight bow. Ever since their first encounter five days ago, he had sought out her company until it had become something of a nightly ritual. He had by now memorized her favorite flavor of brew, how much cream and sugar she liked. Now that he was watching his money more closely, instead of cavorting around the city, he would sleep until the dead hours of the night before heading out of the inn to find her. He knew where she frequented, and when she would be done with last of her customers. "Not just for this, I mean. For earlier today. Annette says I can expect a nice paycheck this week, thanks to the work."

"You're welcome," he replied, hoisting himself up on the stack of crates beside her. "The mending has been piling up and I wanted to do something to help you more."

"Oh Ringabel," the woman said, pushing her hair behind her ear. Tonight, she had it curled and and draping over one shoulder. "You've already done so much to help me. I don't know how to repay you for everything."

Whenever they talked, he paid her for the time, always giving her a bit extra for any especially juicy bits of gossip (some of which he took back to his friends as tips on Blood Rose Legion members to flush out). In that time, he'd learned so many things about her - her past struggles, her present challenges, and her wishes for the future. He gave her advice when he could, or a shoulder to lean on if he couldn't, and in return for her honesty he had also shared his own stories with her. What he could remember at least, and what he could sanitize for a civilian. She knew about his memory loss, even if she didn't quite understand it, and had been very sympathetic.

"There's no need," he said. "I just can't stand to see a beautiful woman down on her luck. It's my pleasure to help you." It made him feel warm inside, to see the genuine smile on her face when they spoke. They had exchanged little more than chaste kisses in the days since that first fiery night, and that was all right with him. He needed nothing else from her than her happiness - and her health; since the night they had met, her cheeks had taken on a rosier hue, and her hair seemed glossier. Her black roots were starting to show.

She smiled, and shifted so that she could lean against him, sighing. He draped an arm easily around her waist. "You know, the girls were quite jealous when you asked for me by name. I got interrogated as to where we really met." When he glanced down at her, he could see the smile on her face, and quite a bit of her cleavage.

"Do they know? About your night… job."

"Of course. Rosetta and Stefonie actually introduced me to it, as a way of making extra money. Half of the girls in the shop have extra jobs just like mine, whether indoors or out. I tried to explain to them that it was really just coffee, but I think some of them are convinced you bought me and fell in love with me, like the stories you hear."

He shifted uneasily. "Those romance stories, where a working girl meets a client who falls in loves with her and buys her freedom from her brothel or master, and the two of them run away and live happily ever after." He'd heard of those. He'd bought books with that as the storyline; it _was_  quite romantic to think about it.

"Yes. Stefonie always says that happened to a cousin of hers, but we don't believe her. It sounds too good to be true." With a sigh, Camelia straightened so she could take another sip of her coffee. "What really happens is a working girl continues until she's too old or too sick, or if she's lucky, she finds a respectable job and doesn't need to sell her talents any longer." She gave him a smile. "With you, I'm hoping I'll find the latter."

"You will," he replied. "You'll open your own shop, remember?"

"I remember," she laughed, throwing her head back and giving him a good view of her slender neck. He traced the line of her collarbone with his eyes. "When I open it, I'll dedicate part of it to you, I swear. I hope you'll come visit."

"I'm quite flattered," he told her, and his chest felt tight. He would eventually have to leave this world, wouldn't he? He wouldn't be able to be there for her to open the shop, and wouldn't be able to help her much longer. Unable to find any trace of the hiding Water Vestal, they were in town only long enough for Agnes to awaken the Water Crystal, recover, and for the team mop up the Blood Rose Legion. While they had not yet located the Venus Sisters or the Red Mage, they had lingered long enough, and defeated most of the smaller squadrons in the area. They could always come back, Edea had reminded them, if the Matriarch sent word of the commanders' appearances.

He swallowed.

"Camelia, dear, you remember what I told you? About my friends, and our work."

"I remember," Camelia replied, her voice soft. She leaned against him once more, her free hand moving up to trace circles on his chest. He shivered; the weather was still somewhat chilly. "You're travelers, moving from region to region to help them recover from the disasters that started last year. And once one region is well enough, you move onto the next."

"Right." He hadn't known how else to explain without really explaining that they were awakening crystals and defeating the Duchy in each region in order to save the _world_. Or at least a world, before jumping to the next, as seemed to be happening.  "And once we move on, we hardly return to a region unless we must." He reached up to take her hand in his. He had also told her about his love for Edea, and how he needed to stay at her side to protect her, and the rest of the group. He had failed them once; he couldn't fail them again.

She was quiet for a few moments. "How much longer do you have?" she asked finally.

"Two weeks, perhaps three." A headache started to pound behind his eyes. "After that, we'll move on to the next region. I don't know when or if we'll ever return."

The silence now was awkward, and it lingered for longer than he would have liked before Camelia let out a sigh. "That's the way it is for all the men here, after all. You can't stay, even  those who were born and raised." She elbowed him good naturedly. "I never expected you to stay. Don't feel guilty for something you can't help."

What he and his friends did was different than other travelers; he had no idea how he was going to return once they left this world, which he was sure they would. "I'm not," he tried to deny, only to cut off when the woman lifted her head to kiss him, her lips soft and pliant against his own. Sighing, he closed his eyes and returned the kiss, wrapping his arm gently around her shoulder.  She smelled and tasted like flowers, the scent thick and heady in his nose. It masked most of the musk of her work that hung around her.

"Cami," he breathed as they parted. "I--" she pressed her finger to his lips to silence him with a smile, then turned back to her coffee. Taking a cue from her, he moved to drink his own, and the two sat in companionable silence as the night went on.

Finally, she drained her cup and tossed it into the trash pile behind them. "It's bed for me. I need to get some sleep so I'm good for work tomorrow. Once the mending is done, we'll wash them and hang them to dry, so I have to be sure my stitches are strong."

"I'll walk you to the your home," he insisted as he slid off the crates, and turned to help her off of them as well, grasping her hips firmly so that she didn't fall. "I do enjoy spending time with you."

"Me too, Ringabel," she smiled up at him once her feet were on the ground. "Let's go."

These past days, he had walked her home more often than not, and no longer needed her to lead the way. They walked in relative silence under the cover of darkness until they reached the shack he was familiar with. As she reached into her bodice for the key, he kept his hand on her waist, reluctant to remove it.

She unlocked the door and stood in the doorway, staring into the dark home for a long moment, before looking back at him.

"Ringabel," she said slowly, her eyes searching his. "Aspen isn't here tonight; there was an overnight gathering with girls from her school, and I'm alone for once. Would you… would you like to have some tea?"

The blond man swallowed. He knew what she was truly asking. He should say no. He should decline politely and kiss her goodnight and tell her that he would see her the following day. He should thank her for the offer but insist she get a good night's rest. He should say no, and turn around and leave. 

Instead he nodded. "Just for a while," he said. 

As he entered, she locked the door securely behind him. He watched, feeling awkward, as the woman moved with ease around the dark room so that she could light the oil lamps. He hadn't been inside since that first night they met, and the mere thought of it sent heat spiraling to his groin. 

Once the lamps were lit, one in each corner of the main room, she removed her shawl from her shoulders with a sigh and draped it on a hook that hung on the wall.

"Are you hungry?" she asked. "Aspen knew she wouldn't be home to cook dinner tonight, so we have plenty of leftovers." She headed over the coldbox now before waiting for his answer.

"I'm fine, thank you," he answered. "I ate dinner with the group." It was the truth, and while he appreciated the offer, he also wasn't going to take food from a family already struggling.

"I'd like to meet your friends someday," Camelia commented as she took out a large covered pot. He headed over to help her, taking it from her so that she could take out a bowl and silverware. As soon as she had spooned out her fill, he placed the pot back into the coldbox at her request. She would eat more in the morning, after a nap.

"You could," he said with a slight smile. "You met one today, you know."

"Oh, that mousey boy with you? He's very cute. Elmina thought he was positively darling. Will he be coming back?" When she at a worn chair at a rickety table, he sat in another, noting that were there three mismatched chairs total.

"Perhaps. He's somewhat girl shy, actually. It's quite charming." Not that he tried to think of Tiz as charming, usually.  "I could try to convince him to return, but he seemed a bit overwhelmed with all the… femininity in the air. He told me I should bring Edea next time, instead."

Camelia was eating quickly, but thoroughly, and as soon as she had chewed and swallowed her mouthful of cold stew, she laughed. "You talk about her so much. I would very much like to especially meet her." She trailed off wistfully as she stirred bits of lumpy fat into the liquid. "The girl you've fallen in love with must be very wonderful, indeed."

"She is wonderful," Ringabel agreed, his throat feeling tight. "She's so kind, and hates to see injustice. I know that she would like you. She likes anyone with a white, pure heart who does good things for other people."

The woman was in the middle of eating another mouthful, but she gave him a look that clearly said he was talking out of his behind again. "I mean it," he insisted. "Edea is quite a good judge of character. And she especially likes women who can keep me on my toes. It keeps me in shape, she says."

"Do you really think so?"

"I do," he nodded at her. "I've an idea, Cami - the next day that you aren't working, we'll all meet up for lunch. You can bring Aspen, if you would like, and I'll bring my friends. I would like you to go."

"That will be Sunsday," she reminded him. By now he knew her work schedule. Moonsday through Earthsday for her day job, with only national holidays free but unpaid. For her night job, she worked every night that she was not sick, tired, or on her monthlys, which she'd told him had finished just days before they met.

Where?"

"The Hungry Fire, near the gates," he decided. "It's by our inn. They have a variety of foods and desserts. Of course, it will be my treat; you and Aspen can order whatever you would like."

"I haven't been there in years," Camelia commented as she scraped the sides of the bowl with her spoon. "Since Aspen was young, I believe. They changed owners and prices, and Mother could no longer afford to take us there. It would be nice…"

"Then it's a date," he said, the d word slipping out before he could help himself. He paled, but she gave him only a wane smile.

"I thank the Crystals everyday for blessing me with you," she informed him, standing up and placing the dirty bowl in the sink. She stretched her hands up nearly to the low ceiling, her back to him. "I really can't thank you enough for everything."

"I've told you, it's - "

She turned around now, her hands at her hips. "I'm not just talking about the money, you know!"

Ringabel's mouth snapped closed.

"You listen to me talk, you compliment me, you make me feel like I'm more than just… a _night girl_  who's only good for her hands and for laying on her back. And more than any of that, Ringabel, you give me hope."

His heart ached for her, catching the shininess in her eyes before she could scrub them. "Camelia…" Standing and feeling useless, he took a small step forward, then stopped.

"You make me think that one day I'll amount to something more than just… this," she gestured toward her small, dreary home with one arm. "No. Because of you, I _know_ that someday I'll be more than this. I just have to wait and be patient but… that's alright, because I have a man I love, even if he doesn't return that love."

Ringabel's throat felt tight, his chest felt ached and his eyes were stinging. All the girls he had ever dated had known that their relationship was temporary, and they treated it as such; something fun to bide their time with until the next man they would date. He had been devoted to each and every girl while with her, but his passions had been just as brief as the relationships, and easily moved to another. It had been fair because they had known. Here, Camelia knew the same, and yet…

This was all so confusing. Since his memories had begun to return, he'd felt that he was nothing but confused and lost.

When he realized she was crying, though, he wrapped his arms around her. "Please don't cry," he begged, closing his eyes. He hated it when pretty girls cried. It made him want to act like more of a fool than he already was, just to put a smile on their faces.

"I promised you tea," she said, rubbing her face with one hand while she clung to him with the other. "And I haven't offered it to you."

. . . 

Was that it? Ringabel gaped wordlessly down at her as she slowly pulled away and turned her back to him so that she could fish out an old, dented kettle from the cabinets. This, she filled with water and put on the stove which was lit with the help of a match.

He licked dry lips as he watched her sniffle over the kettle. Part of him wanted to apologize for the misunderstanding and run far far away, never to return to this area of Florem. Tiz knew where the Sew and Tell was, and Edea could help him retrieve the clothes. He need never bother Camelia again, nor hurt her with his presence. It was dangerous to get to close to a woman outside of his group of friends; anyone they met would just be left behind.

The other part wanted to stay and comfort her, and prevent her from crying again. To wrap her up in his arms and kiss away the swollenness under her eyes. Unlike his previous girlfriends, who had been self-assured and haughty with their place in Florem, Camelia was sweet, and had only hard work and a hard life. What harm was there in attempting to soften it, for even a short while? That had been his original drunken intention when he had approached her the first time, after all. It was just - things had gotten a tad out of his control. 

Those two parts warred with each other, each lobbying spears of common sense and bolts of pros and cons back and forth as he weighed their arguments. 

The man was so caught up in his thinking that he only jolted out of it when the kettle began to whistle, and Camelia was removing it from the heat.

He'd forgotten to tell her that he didn't really drink tea. "It's good, Cami," he said as he drank from the chipped cup that she offered to him. It was surprisingly spicy, with a hint of citrus, and warmed him nicely. While her home was by no means ramshackle, it was drafty.

"It's my favorite," she explained, and the smile she gave him was less sad, lifting his spirits. "And a Florem specialty."

"You'll have to tell me where I can buy some then," he commented. The girls tended to drink tea that was sweet and florally, not really to his taste. But this tea was strong and flavorful, pleasing to him, just like Camelia herself. Even if he still felt that coffee was superior, he'd be happy to drink more of this with her.

When their cups were both drained, she stood to make another cup of a different blend, placing his empty one in the sink to be washed later. He watched her, unsure of what to do now. Should he leave? Stay? 

He couldn't decide. The sensible part of him, the one he pretended not to listen to on most occasions, told him that he would avoid a great deal of heartache if he up and left now, thanking her for the tea. The other part of him, the part that wanted to make people happy, told him that he should stay and do just that. She didn't seem to want him to leave just yet, and she enjoyed his company as much as he enjoyed hers.

Finally, after she drained the second cup of tea, she looked at him - past him, at a clock on the wall. "It's nearly two in the morning. I need to sleep; the shop opens the hour after dawn and we're expected to be there."

"Alright," he agreed, feeling a weight begin to lift off his chest. He stood and smoothed down the front of his jacket.  "I shall see you tomorrow night, then."

She cocked her head at him, curious. "Why do you keep coming to see me, every night? I've been meaning to ask."

"Why?" His eyes widened.

"Yes. Every night at the same time, you show up, you buy some coffee, we talk, and we part ways. What are you getting out of this? Truly, Ringabel. If you're just after something, I - "

"Must a man have ulterior motives?" he grumbled, looking away from her. His cheeks were feeling hot. "We've discussed this; I'm not interested in your night work, Camelia."

"Most men are."

"Do I look like most men?" he asked her crossly. Because Alternis aside, he wanted to believe he was unique, especially with his hair style. He stood out! He was different! "Besides," he plowed on before she could burst his bubble and tell him that other men wore their hair in pompadours or something, "I'm a virgin."

There was silence.

Her eyebrow was slowly raising up to her hairline, a smile twitching on her face. "You are a… well, I suppose that makes everything make more sense now."

What did that mean?! "What does that mean?" he asked her, pouting. A man could date without sex, kiss without sex, he - he had had many fulfilling relationships without it! 

"Why you haven't been trying to get up my skirt," she told him, shaking her head. "You're so innocent. No wonder you're so charming."

"I am hardly innocent," he protested, feeling a bit put on the spot. "I - when I was in the military there was no time for sex, and with my group of friends, there's absolutely no way any of that will be happening." 

She laughed, a clear sound that made his own heart quicken. "No, I suppose it wouldn't. It's too bad, though. You seem the type to be a wonderful lover, once you know how." His face was burning hot now, and he gulped, tugging at the neckline of his jacket. It was getting warm in the room, wasn't it? "Edea will be a lucky girl when she beds you."

"I beg your pardon?" When _Edea_ bedded _him_? Wasn't it normally the other way around?!

"You're so innocent, she's going to have to make the first move," Camelia explained, as though he were a bit slow. The awkwardness that was between them seemed to be gone now.. He found himself led to an old plush couch that groaned under their weight when they sat. And sit he did, as she stretched her legs out onto a wooden coffee table and reached to untie her boots.

He was growing flustered at the mere thought of bedding Edea, or bedding _anyone_. "We - we'll be married first, of course," he explained, stuttering on his words. "Edea is a romantic, and isn't the type to just… sleep with anyone." He thought so, at least.

"And you are?"

"I - No!" he insisted, wanting to scrub his face with his hands. "I want to make love to the woman I'm with, not just - not just _bed_ her!" Call him old-fashioned, but he wanted there to be feelings in the sex, not just release, and he wanted it to be special. Every woman deserved to feel so special. 

Camelia was pulling off her tall boots and stockings, and so did not reply to him until her feet were free and she could wiggle her toes with relief. "I say it again. She will be a lucky girl." The look she gave him was filled with longing, one that filled his core with heat. It seemed that she too was remembering that first night that they had met.

"I didn't mind it," he blurted out. She stared at him, and he hastened to clarify. "That night, when you… when you…" How was he supposed to discretely describe what she'd done? He flailed his arms widely instead, mimicking her motions with a hand. She snorted. "It was… nice."

"I could tell you enjoyed it." The look she gave him now was knowing and saucy, causing his stomach to flip. "But why did you let me do it then, if you were a virgin? I'm not sure that you truly are, after that, though."

"That didn't count," he waved his hand and ignored her sound of protest. "Everyone knows that doesn't count. And… " And he had wanted the attention and the pleasure that had come along with it, as long as it wasn't the result of him paying a woman. Contrary to popular belief, it had not been his first time getting his cock sucked. He'd known going into it how good it could feel, and how it could help with the loneliness he felt. That's also how he had known it didn't count. "And…" He lowered his hand, realizing with a jolt that reason he'd accepted her that night was the same reason he kept returning to speak with her.

She was removed from the terrible situation that he and his friends had found themselves in. In her, he had found an escape, however briefly, from reality, and it had felt good. With her, he felt less confused about his life and more like _Ringabel_ , complete with all the mannerisms and desires that had filled the gap his memories had left behind. He needed it, and her. 

"I wanted to," she supplied for him when he stalled, reaching over for his hand. "And you didn't pay me for it. I just wanted to do it, because I like you."

"Yes, because... " He looked at her now, truly looked at her, and her face was flushed. His own felt hot. He swallowed hard. Here again was that feeling in his stomach. "It's why we meet every night, isn't it? We like talking to one another, listening, and... you're very kind."

She was sitting very close to him, he noticed. Their thighs were touching, and her skirt was drawn up short. When she leaned over, he could see down her cleavage.

"I want to do it again," she whispered to him, and his arms were wrapping around her shoulders, his eyes drawn to her full lips. "Please, Ringabel. No man makes me feel the way that you do."

And no woman made him feel as cherished and appreciated as she did. He squirmed somewhat at the thought; he loved Edea dearly, so dearly, and couldn't imagine not loving her. But, he wasn't so delusional as to believe Edea would treat him as tenderly and special as Camelia did. At least not at this time. Someday in the future, he imagined Edea would fall in love with him and they would live happily ever after, but he loved her now for the strength she showed, her cheeriness when things were hard, and the mischievous smiles she gave him when they teased each other. She was fire-forged steel, shiny in the light, and he loved her for that sharpness.

Camelia was sweet, but Edea she was not. Where one was molded iron shaped by her upbringing, sharpened by her experiences, the other was a willow, bending and preserving against the elements until the storm was passed, her branches arching over him.

"I don't mean to lead you on," he breathed as their lips parted; they had been kissing. When had that started? he thought dizzily. 

"You don't," she told him, nuzzling his nose with her own. "I know exactly where your heart lies. Oh, but Ringabel… do you want this now?" Her palm was ghosting over the tent growing in his pants.

Ringabel closed his eyes, trying to ignore the headache pounding in the back of his head. Did he want it? It felt good, certainly, and he did want to stay with her. She was stoking a fire in a part of him left unattended to for too long, and she was his friend, and...

"Are you sure?" was all he asked her, brushing a kiss to her cheek. "You don't need to repay me for a _thing_." He'd wanted to wait to have sex, but here was a beautiful woman who was willing - and wanting - to lay with him, and he didn't want to upset or offend her by pushing her away. She didn't seem to be deterred by in his inexperience, and if she was willing… it would be worth it, with her.

"I'm not," she argued softly. "This isn't repayment for anything. This is… different." She kissed him again, her lips soft.

"Yes," he breathed against her mouth as he decided. He felt hazy and warm, and no longer had the energy to argue or move. Having sex didn't make either of them less of a person, and she was a woman that he cared for, even if he wasn't sure he could claim he was in love with her. She'd teach him a thing or two, and - well, it made sense if he thought of it that way. If he wanted to be a good lover in the future, he needed the experience. If his first time was with a lovely woman like Camelia… he wouldn't regret it. He hoped.

At the very least, it would make her happy.

He kissed her firmly now, muffling a moan into her mouth. He'd made his decision, made his bed, and now he was to lie in it - with her.

First though, they stayed on the couch. She shifted into his lap, the short hemline of her skirt making it easy for her to straddle him. His hands rested on her hips to hold her steady as she sat on him with her knees on either side of his thighs, her arms winding around his shoulders. Though she was nearly six inches shorter than he, the position meant that his eyes were now level with her bosom. 

He smiled cautiously up at her, still feeling slightly uneasy; he had no idea what he was expected to do. She seemed to notice, and reached up to the ties that held the top of her dress together. "Pull these," she suggested, pointing them out to him, and he did as she asked, unraveling the knot and allowing the linen to tumble down her torso, freeing large breasts that flowed over the edge of her bodice and hung enticingly in his vision. He groaned; she smiled.

His hands felt unsteady as he cradled her breasts in them, the supple flesh overfilling his palms and spilling over his fingers. He handled them with care, rolling his fingers gingerly as he caressed her, trying to get used to the idea he was handling beautifully bare breasts; he'd only ever touched others above their clothes before and he'd had no idea her skin could feel so soft. Her hands moved to pet his hair, tangling in the styled locks and making an easy mess of his pompadour as he weighed his options. Her nipples were stiff in his hands, and he shifted his grip so that he could caress them with his thumbs, flicking them back and forth. He swallowed hard, knowing instinctively what he wanted to do. A quick glance up at her face gave him courage.

Leaning forward, Ringabel took one of her dusky nipples into his mouth, his lips curling around that stiff nub. Camelia sighed, her nails tracing down the back of his neck as he suckled modestly at her, rolling her nipple in his lips and tongue, mindful of his teeth. She tasted salty, like sweat, and there was a hint of her perfume in her scent as he buried his face in her chest. One of his hands kneaded at her neglected breast, as his mouth worked at her, tugging out her wet, swollen nipple with his lips. His other hand strayed to her thigh to stroke her there.

She was holding his head very close to her breast, and it made it hard for him to pop off and move to the other, his hand lifting it to help close the gap between. This nipple too, he lavished his attention upon, his suckling growing in strength and in urgency as need mounted in him. He'd never thought of himself as a man who liked large busts, preferring instead a nicely rounded behind, but hers were feeding a primal urge. He latched on firmly to her with a contented moan, his eyes slipping shut.

At some point, Camelia had begun to slowly rotate her hips from above his lap. Now, that sent shocks of pleasure through him as she brushed against the insistent bulge in his pants. It was almost torture. Gasping, he pulled back from her, leaning his head against the back of the couch. The dim light reflected the saliva that veiled her breasts. "Feel better?" she asked, smiling at him. 

" _Extremely_ ," he exhaled slowly, shifting so that he could press his burgeoning manhood to her thigh. He didn't want to ask what came next, but once again he was unsure of how to proceed. 

Luckily, she was now leaning back so that she could grasp his belt buckle in her hands, making swift work of it and the ties to his pants, revealing his straining drawers. As she had before, she ran her fingernails down the visible bulge, causing his trapped member to twitch at her touch. He squeezed her bare thighs before his hands began to trail up her legs, slipping easily under her skirt where he hesitated.

The zipper of his pants fully undone, she was free to palm him through the thin fabric of his drawers, causing him to gasp as the cotton reached its limit, caging him. The ridges of the head of his cock were visible now, and she pressed her thumb down against it, giggling as it bobbed back up once the pressure was gone. He whimpered; this was probably actual torture and she knew it. Looking up at him with a sly smile, she crooked her fingers in the waistband and drew it down slowly, dragging the fabric across his sensitive member until it snagged off the end. She continued to pull the waistband down only enough so that she could fully reveal both his shaft and his sac before releasing the fabric from her fingers. 

Free of constraints, his cock bobbed freely in the air, the glans already wet with need. Cooing at it encouragingly, she wrapped her hand around the middle of the shaft and tugged him. When a drop of precome formed at the tip, she pushed back his foreskin so that she could roll that drop on the pad of her thumb and - and his eyes followed the movement of her hand as she lifted it to her mouth and slowly licked.

He licked his dry lips, watching her tongue before his eyes flicked up to meet hers, a deeper shade of blue than he'd ever seen.

She leaned forward to kiss him again, pressing wet bare breasts against his chest. His hands gripped her thighs tightly like a lifeline as their tongues rolled gently together, breaths mixing with soft moans. He could taste himself on her lips.

"Mmm, keep going," she breathed against his lips before tugging the bottom one with her teeth. "Touch me."

Emboldened by her suggestion, he did as she said, and his fingers continued to slide up creamy, delicate skin, all the way the juncture of her thighs and hips. Here, he stopped again, confused before it hit him; she wore no undergarments.

Of course she wouldn't. It made sense in a way, considering her night job. An extra garment would only be one more thing to wash, and panties would get in the way of her activities. He had to wonder if she had ever worn panties during the night, or if tonight was somehow special. His fingers trailed down, following the line of her hip bone until he felt damp, coarse curls and wet heat radiating from her core against the tips of his fingers. He inhaled sharply.

She had once again wrapped her hand around his manhood to caress him. Her fingers were light and gentle, still a heated sensation but one that couldn't tear his attention away from the pounding in his veins as he focused on running his fingers through the wet slit he felt between her open thighs. She was slick and hot, her fluids covering his fingers as he trailed the length of her sex and back up, his imagination working into overdrive to envision what he felt. Here were her outer lips, gaping slightly with her need as he caressed them with his fingertips, tracing the shape of them to where they met, joining into a little nub that swelled as he circled it. Ah. Ringabel knew what _that_ was, though he'd always thought it would be harder to find. Rubbing it gently with two fingers, he enjoyed the moan that slipped through her lips, and leaned up to kiss her once more as though to devour any other noises she might make.

Their lips pressed loosely together, the two of them breathed into each other's mouths as he continued to explore her sex, taking every cue from her to help him learn. Reluctant as he was to part from her clit, he moved further down until his fingers slipped almost too easily into her entrance. Immediately, her muscles clamped down tightly on his digits, holding him in place. He tried to wiggle his fingers, but to no avail. He could feel her giggle.

Ringabel used his thumb instead, brushing it against her clit again. With a gasp, she let him go, and it was his turn to grin. Instead of pulling his fingers away from her though, he slipped them back into her and then back out, a bit astonished at how easily he could do so. There was no friction as he worked, and he easily added a third, then fourth.

Camelia sighed now, leaning back and lifting up on her knees. One hand steadied herself on his shoulder, the other one loosely cradled his turgid cock in two slender fingers. 

"Are you ready?" she asked him. Dazed, he looked up at her and realized what she meant. She was positioning herself so that her sex could rub against the head of his cock, and it took all of his self-control not to lift himself up into her. No - once he entered her, there was no going back from this. 

Or perhaps there was. She reached into her bodice for a small foil packet. "Almost forgot," she mumbled, and he saw her cheeks flush as she ducked her head down. Making quick work of the condom wrapper, he helped her roll the rubber sheath down his manhood until it was snug around his base. _Now_ he was truly ready.

Ringabel swallowed. 

He nodded.

The head of his sheathed cock was still pressing against her heat, and though that heat now felt somewhat muted, he still felt it through the barrier as she slide down on him, easily taking in his inches. He let out a low, longing moan as her sex surrounded him, leaning his head back against the couch until she was settled fully on his lap once more, his cock fully buried in her. She was keening in her own way, her hips twitching as she rolled up off him, then back down, her inner muscles dragging along his length.

He'd thought her mouth was good that night, but it was nothing compared to how she felt now around him. Through the barrier, he could still feel was her raw heat consuming him from the outside in, and with every motion the sensitive nerves of his entire cock were lit in a hellish blaze. He couldn't take much more of this, he thought. Ringabel grasped the woman's hips tightly in his hands so that he could move with her, the two of them rocking together in deliberate motions before they began to pick up in pace. His thoughts were fading away into base instinct, to move, to please her, to continue to fuck her until he found blessed release from the tightness building in him.

Camelia's hands cradled his face and turned it up so that they could kiss, their lips meeting with just as much frenzy as their hips. It was a sloppy kiss, their tongues and teeth clacking together, but served more as another way for them to connect. He moaned out his need for her against her lips as his eyes closed; even with the condom separating them, it was far too much stimulation and he was very, very close.

His thrusts up into her sopping sex were erratic and rough now as he approached the edge. Any moment now, he whispered against her swollen lips. Cries for him spilled against his own, muffled.

When his orgasm hit him, he let out a primal groan, his thighs clenching as he lifted into her and held her still with his hands. A release unlike anything he'd ever known uncoiled in his stomach and coursed through his veins, fizzed in his head. When it was over, and when his chest heaved with his breath, he leaned against the back of the couch.

"Don't move," Camelia whispered to him. "Stay in me."

He didn't think he _could_ move. His legs felt like overcooked noodles, as did his arms. Feeling her move on him, he opened one of his eyes and watch her trail her hand down her torso and between her legs. 

She rubbed at her clit with two experienced fingers, rotating her hips just enough so that he didn't slip out. Her muscles clenched around him; he whimpered at the tight sensation around a drained cock. He should help, shouldn't he…? It seemed fair.

She seemed to have that taken care of down there, so instead he lifted weak arms up to cradle her breasts, tugging at her nipples. She sighed, a smile crossing over her lips in approval. Ringabel continued to fondle her until she cried out with joy, and he felt her muscles convulse rhythmically around his limp member, her body jerking above his. Then, she was still, leaning against him and forcing his hands from her breasts as she closed the space between them. 

Unsure of what to do with his hands now, he held her, feeling her continue to pulsate around his member. His eyelids felt like lead. He would have been content to nap.

And nap he did, it seemed, because when he opened his eyes next she was no longer on him and he was alone on the couch. All the lamps in the house had been put out and he could barely see her form in the kitchen as she washed the dishes. Glancing down, he discovered his drawers and pants had been done up again. Were it not for the dull twinge in his legs and torso, he would have thought he'd dreamed up the sex.

"Camelia," he whispered, his voice sounding loud in the still house. She jumped, and turned to him. 

She was nude, he realized, but he didn't flush as his eyes swept over her form. Even in the light he could see enough to appreciate it, and he felt a familiar pulse awaken in him.

"You fell asleep," she said as she came to sit next to him on the couch, as casual as if they were on a stroll in the park. "It happens, especially to men."

"I wouldn't know," he reminded her. Though it made sense; he masturbated when he had particular problems sleeping because it helped calm him. "Is it always like that?"

"Like what?"

How to put it in words? He had been reluctant at first, and now that it was over there was an odd, odd feeling of finality deep in his core, the same way that some people felt when they left home for the first time. Still, he had enjoyed it. Greatly enjoyed it, even. He shouldn't regret the sex. Not when his mind had ceased to think of everything but the woman in his arms and their coupling and how much he wanted her. In a way, it had been refreshing that his mind and body had both been so occupied.

"Good," he finally settled on, and he saw her smile.

"Usually, yes. When both parties are willing and... " she trailed off, thoughtful. "Well, it's late now. You can stay the night if you would like, unless… you were planning to leave?" She bit her lip.

He _should_ leave and return to the inn where his friends slept, so that he too could get some rest. But that would mean leaving her, and trudging halfway across the city in his tired state. She looked at him so invitingly in the scant light that he shook his head before he realized he was doing it. Well, he'd gone this far, how much further could he fall?

"Then come to bed," she implored him, and dragged him to his feet. He followed her into the room that she seemed to share with her sister; two beds and a large armoire meant there was hardly any space to walk, but she inched with ease over to the larger of the two beds and sat on the edge, beckoning him over and stopping him with a hand before her.

"I dressed you because I thought you might go," she explained as she went for his belt buckle. The smile she gave him made his heart skip. Again? Ringabel swallowed and shifted, threading his fingers into her hair; she'd pulled it back into a ponytail, which he now gripped. His pants and drawers swiftly fell to the floor. 

Despite the tiredness that his brain felt, his cock was another matter, twitching with life in front of the woman's face, drawing a smile to her lips. She leaned forward to kiss the tip of it before looking up at him. "I'm glad you stayed, Ringabel. I want to show you so many things."

He was well aware that she certainly could show him many, many things… the thought woke him from his lethargy. "Well, I'm here and at your service. You may as well show me everything." He did always enjoy new things.

Her hand wrapped around his drooping manhood and stroked him gently to wake him. As if remembering how wonderful she'd felt, his cock leapt alive quickly, hardening in her palm in mere seconds as she pumped.

"Oh, I'm not sure there's time enough for _everything_ tonight," she said with a low voice.

"Another time perhaps," he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He shouldn't make promises he couldn't keep, he thought, as one of his knees slid onto the bed. With a soft noise, she scooted forward on the bed until she was closer to the edge.

"Let's start with this then," she suggested, and lowered her head to lap the head of his still half-hard cock. He sighed blissfully. As she took him fully into her mouth to suck, he tugged at her ponytail, pulling himself further into her mouth. She hummed around him, causing heat to spiral at the base of his stomach. Then, her hand wrapped around the bottom of his shaft and she straightened up, blowing cold air at his wet tip as she did.

"I don't want you to come again so quickly. I don't think you could take it," she told him. 

He had to defend his manhood even if he suspected she may have been right. "I'll be fine," he tried to argue. He was committed to this now, and if he had to have sex, he wanted to be good at it. To be able to make it special, and not just the act of coupling.

"I believe you," she said in a way that clearly said she didn't, and then leaned back on the bed, beckoning him. "Come here, Ringabel."

He joined her, pausing only to shuck off his jacket and his top until he was as bare as she. The bed sheets were cheap and coarse against his skin, but he paid it no mind as he lay against her, their legs tangling This was something new and nice. He stroked her arm with his hand. 

Honestly, he wanted to sleep, but there was still a fire in his veins that needed tending to. He kissed her, enjoying the feeling of her soft breasts pressing into his bare chest when she clung to him, her nails tracing circles on his back as they rolled over until he was on top of her, his knees holding him safely above her.

When they parted, he pressed another kiss to her forehead. She sighed and he leaned back to admire the way she looked in the dim light, nude and open to him. Had he ever seen anything as intoxicating as this? He couldn't take his eyes off her curves and the inviting look in her eyes as her fingers caressed his arms. No wonder people enjoyed this so.

He swallowed.

"How do I… please a woman? You," he clarified, if that weren't clear enough. He felt it was important to know how to make his partner feel good in return. Now and for the future.

"Kiss me, to begin," she teased him and he obeyed, closing his eyes and leaning back into her touch. Her tongue was familiar and friendly despite their current state of undress, and it was he who lapped hungrily at her until she moaned yearningly. She had liked it earlier when he'd sucked her breasts, he remembered, so perhaps he would start there…

He broke the kiss only so that he could kiss her jaw, hearing her sigh in his ear. One of her hands slipped into his sweat-dampened hair and tugged at it, eliciting a growl from the back of his throat and a nip to hers in response.

"Oh," she gasped. "Do that again." She pulled his hair as if to provoke him.

Well, if she insisted. Ringabel did as he was asked, nipping at the curve of her throat and feeling her squeak. The noise sparked something deep inside of him, and he kissed the bite mark before tugging that sensitive skin into his mouth and sucking hard. Through his lips he felt her cry out with pleasure, her hips rolling up. He repeated this again lower, then lower, leaving a trail of bites down her torso.

Once he got to her breasts, he suckled on the curve of one, though he didn't use his teeth here, on such sensitive skin. He didn't need to. Her moans of delight filled his ears and lifted his ego, her hands threaded through his hair and completely destroyed the last remnants of his pompadour, leaving his damp locks to trail over her flushed skin. 

Her nipples were like beacons in the night, dark and stiff with need. Ringabel took one into his mouth again as he had earlier, tugging it deep into the back of his mouth with his tongue and suckling hard.

"Just like that," she encouraged him, her nails scraping lightly against his scalp. His eyelashes fluttered and he took a deep breath before resuming what he was doing. Once he'd had his fill of play with that one, he moved to the other, this breast too receiving his full attention. Throughout it all she squirmed under him, arching up into his touch even as he tried to hold her still, his hands tight at her hips. 

Her breasts were delightful, but he paused now, uncertain about his next steps. He'd heard more than enough stories in the army, from _Holly_ , from his ex-girlfriends on how what women liked, he had just… never been so close to a woman himself to really know.

"What's wrong?" she asked, propping herself up on an elbow.

Ringabel could hardly explain that he was stuck. "What would please _you_?" he asked. 

Camelia was quiet for a long while before she answered, and he occupied the quiet time with massaging her hip. "I'm not actually sure, Ringabel. I can't remember the last time I had sex with anyone for my own pleasure."

"What?" he gaped at her. "Are you serious? And how long have you been - no, don't answer that." He didn't really want to know the answer to that particular question, but he felt indignant on her behalf. What sort of people was she sleeping - no he didn't want to know the answer to that question either. He sighed in frustration and felt her laugh underneath him. 

"Then we'll find out together," he suggested, and her laugh faded.

"Ringabel…"

"I told you," he reminded her. "I want to make love to the woman I'm with." Not just sex.

"I remember," she said, her expression unreadable in the near darkness. "I suppose that for both of us, this will be our first time making love to someone."

"Right." He hoped he didn't sound terse when he replied, so he leaned up to kiss her, hearing her sigh softly against his lips. Her hands were gentle on his back, tracing circles across his shoulders. "Any suggestions?"

Seriously, he needed some help here.

She smiled against his lips and with a low noise, stretched under him. "Kiss me. But not here - down there."

Down… oh. Ringabel considered that for a moment then nodded, crawling his way down her body until he could kneel between her spread thighs. With a bit of awkward repositioning, he was level with her sex, the scent of her arousal heavy in his nostrils when he breathed deep. It sent a pulse through him.

Her fingers played in his hair as he kissed her inner thigh, feeling her muscles tighten at his touch. Here was a birthmark, large and dark, and very close to the juncture of her thighs; he traced the edge of it with his tongue and heard her gasp. She was already wet, or perhaps was still wet from earlier, her gash glistening in the light. Ringabel drew his tongue over his lip. Instead of kissing her there as she had suggested, instead he lifted his fingers up to touch her, spreading her outer lips carefully to give him a good view of the woman's sex. After all, when working with anything new, he liked to know what exactly he was dealing with, and he hadn't had an opportunity to look at her before, with it hidden under her skirt.

Her entrance gaped slightly open as he looked at it and when he felt her muscles under his fingers shift, he saw it tense and relax. Ah, that's how that worked. Above, shiny with wet, her clitoris was engorged with her need, peeking out from under its small hood. When he slid his fingers up to entrap it between them, he felt it twitch, and smiled.

_Now_ he kissed her, pursing his lips against her swollen clit, then flicking his tongue out to taste her. It was tangy and sharp, perhaps an acquired taste. He tested it again, drawing in her clit with a gentle suck before pulling off.

Her low moan pleased him. Trying not to smile too widely, he focused his attention on the core of her sex, suckling gently at the skin above and around her clit. Camelia's moans soon filled his ears; he could tell by the way her muscles tense under his hand how good it felt for her, especially when he curled her clit up into his tongue and lapped at it.

Not wanting to neglect her entrance, two of his fingers toyed with it as he lavished her clit with his mouth until, after some moments, they slipped in. Recalling from earlier how loose she'd been, he quickly added a third finger to fill her a little more, twisting his hand slightly with his motions as he pumped it in a mimicry of their earlier sex.

She was shaking slightly under him, her legs tight and quivering as he continued his lascivious assault to her sex. Had no one truly done this for her before? It seemed a shame; she really was quite lovely, and he glanced up the length of her body to watch her as she played with her breasts, her head thrown back to the bed as she moaned out praises and pleads. He gave another gently suckling kiss to her clit, drawing it for as long as he could before giving her sex a long, firm lap. 

Then he latched onto her clit like he had early to a nipple and sucked hard at it. Her hips jolted off the bed, dislodging him. "Ringabel!"

"Did that hurt?" he asked, frowning even as he lay on his stomach and wrapped both his arms around her thighs, his hands clutching them tightly. Maybe he could hold her still like this.

"No," she half-moaned. "Do it again."

Well, if she insisted. Holding on tightly to her thighs, Ringabel latched onto her clit. This time he was prepared, and he put his strength behind holding her to the bed, forced to be still as he sucked at her engorged button. She gave her best shot, squirming and rocking, but he was far stronger than she and kept her down, as her cries increased in volume and force. He would deny it if asked, but her cries fed a dark, primal part of him. 

Her hands returned to his hair, alternately tugging and pushing at him as she half-sat up, panting. Her cries turned wordless into wanton vocalizations that he could somehow interpret perfectly. She wanted him to suck harder, then slower, then flick his tongue against the tip of her clit, then adjust the way he gripped her sex in his lips for a different angle to the pleasure she felt, then…

Then her hips jerked so violently he couldn't stop them, and her thighs closed around his head. Trapped for a moment by her heated, muggy sex, Ringabel had no choice but to let her ride out her orgasm, feeling her muscles flutter wildly against his mouth.

Her hips still twitched when he prised her legs open, and she jumped when he kissed the top of her clit again. 

"Careful," she warned, and he nodded. His cock was sensitive right after an orgasm, he imagined she was like that too. Instead, as he waited for her to come down fully from her high, he suckled at the skin of her hip, idly wondering if he could leave marks here.

When her breath seemed to return to normal, she gestured him up with a hand.

"That was nice," she said, pushing some of his hair from his face. They kissed as he settled between her legs; her hand reached between them to touch him again, stroking him with two slender fingers. "Are you certain you've never done that before?"

"First time," he said smugly. "I am a very fast learner." And a man who wanted to please this lovely woman beneath him, he added privately.

"You are," she agreed, a smile on her moist lips. "I haven't come like that since… I think since Lizeth last ate me out."

He stared at her. "A woman - you've slept with a woman?" But why was he not particularly surprised, considering how Florem was, and why was that turning him on, a rush of fire spiraling to his groin as he imagined Camelia sleeping with other women, particularly a certain…

"I don't have just male clients," she said matter-of-factly, and took the opportunity to reach over to a shelf built into the wall above her bed. "I have just as many female ones. There's plenty of women in this city who are lonely, and not enough men to go around. When I lived in the hostel, we had some orgies with the girls and a few _very_ wealthy men who liked to watch." 

"You have got to tell me more about this," Ringabel replied, though he already knew about her time spent in a 'hostel' - really more of a glorified brothel - where she'd gotten her start in sex work. She just hadn't told him specifics. "I'm very interested in hearing about this."

Camelia had found the condom she was looking for and now tore the package open with ease. "I'm sure you are," she teased. "You're probably imagining many things about it."

"I - I am not," he lied badly, shifting uneasily, then sitting up so that she could wrap him in protection. He was quite glad _she_ had remembered it; he'd had more than enough Talks with Tiz to last a lifetime, about keeping himself self and protected from accidents, but had quickly forgotten about the existence of condoms in the heat of the moment. He didn't want to think about the potential disaster that could happen without one.

"I'm sure," she laughed, giving him a deep kiss that distracted him from the topic at hand, and effectively silenced him. He returned it enthusiastically, driving his tongue into her mouth and curling it around hers, moaning against her lips as he settled against her again.

This time though, she guided him into her with two fingers. His cock slid in easily enough into her loose liquid heat. Once their hips met and he could go no further, he broke the kiss with a sigh, mouthing at her instead.

"Make love to me," she implored him in a whisper, pressing their foreheads together briefly. Her eyes were bright.

"Yes," Ringabel breathed, kissing her lips. She deserved to be made love to, even if he wasn't sure he was the best candidate for it. He was here now; he would have to do his best, he thought.

Then he slipped out and rocked his hips back in, and stopped thinking. There was no need to think about anything but how good she felt around and beneath him, her pussy loosely wrapped around his cock and her legs tightly wrapped around his, holding him. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her nipples moving against him as they rocked together in carnal motions, their tempo increasing while their passion mounted. He supported himself with just one arm, his other hand grasping her ample behind to keep her close, angling her as he pumped his cock into her core. The sounds of their wet flesh slapping together easily reached his ears, as did the sound of the creaking bed in time with their movement. There was nothing else. He was just a man coupling with this beautiful woman.

He'd never felt quite like this; so alive and so… _fulfilled_. It was if they were the only two beings in existence and made for one another, their bodies joining in perfect harmony. She made up his entire world, the way that her body felt like molten lava around him and the way her husky voice filled his minds and chased out all the dark corners from it. The way his mouth and noses flooded with the smell of her sharp scent mingling with his own and the air thick with sweat. The way his eyes were fixated on her pulse hammering in her neck, easily visible now that she'd thrown her head back and wailed.

"More," she was begging him, her nails digging into his shoulders. "Please, _more_." 

She wanted more? He'd give her more.

"More," he gasped as his tempo reached its peak. He hammered at her, no longer caring about anything but drilling her into the bed, his feet digging into the lumpy mattress for leverage. Nothing else _mattered_ so long as they were together and he could pound into the body that made him feel so good. She wailed in response, her nails dragging up his back even her hips bucked wildly; with a growl, he grabbed her thighs and forced them apart and up, keeping her legs open and in the air for him so that he had absolute access to her heated box. The cries of pleasure spilling from her lips nearly drowned out all other noises, even the lewd sounds of their messy joining or the bed under distress. All he could hear was the woman that he was pleasuring and that was all he cared for.  He wanted to fuck her until neither of them knew anything but the feeling of each other - regrets, responsibilities be damned.

Her sobs reached a crescendo just before she gasped and choked on her breath. Before he could be alarmed, she arched into him, nails drawing blood from his back as her whole body suddenly jerked with her orgasm. Her muscles tightened harshly around him, unexpectedly, and Ringabel found himself coming in that same moment, his throat and stomach tightening, and he slammed his hips into her one last time before he came apart.

For one long agonizing moment he felt like he was in hell as they rode their orgasms out together, her pussy milking his cock dry, his release swiftly gathering in the condom. Then, those strong inner muscles of hers relaxed and he nearly collapsed with relief on top of her as he gasped for breath, hips rolling instinctively to round out his orgasm before his legs gave out. He caught himself on his forearms.

"Oh Crystals, Ringabel," Camelia was murmuring, her trembling hands pushing back his soggy hair. She looked dazed, her own hair sticking to her face. "That was - you _are_ … a fast learner. A _good_  learner. "

Sex apparently, was very good for his manly pride. He kissed her - tried to -  before slipping out and rolling over to sit. It took all of his strength to pull the condom off his softening cock and toss it aside, now that the passion was again over. He couldn't stay sitting anymore, and fell to his back on the much abused bed, limbs unsexily askew.

Camelia rolled over to snuggle into his side, her arm wrapping around his waist. Her form fit well against him, especially as their sweaty legs tangled. Together, they breathed.

"There's still some hours before dawn," Camelia said after a moment, rousing him from a doze. He hadn't anticipated just how exhausted sex could leave him, a different type of bone-weariness than he felt when fighting or drinking, contentment lingering deep in his core. This type of exhaustion was more pleasurable to reach, at the very least. "If we sleep now, it should be fine."

"Let's sleep," he grunted, then kissed the top of her head to take the edge of his grump. He was tired, and sore, and needed sleep to process everything that had happened in the past few hours. She was a beautiful woman with whom he had just shared something irrevocably special, and he adored her for it. He didn't mean to sound harsh with her, not after their love making or whatever that could be called.

"Goodnight," she said, kissing his shoulder. He drifted off to dreamless sleep soon after that, not noticing when she slipped out of bed to enter the adjoining bathroom, nor when she returned to cover him with a sheet and curl up beside him with a smile.

 


	3. Lily of the Valley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An odd morning after and a typical day with friends.

Far too soon, the dawn's bright light penetrated his eyes, and he groaned as he turned his head, trying to escape the rays that burst mercilessly through the window. _How_? The inn had thick, light blocking curtains, and he'd already argued with Tiz more than once about keeping them closed until the older man had woken up naturally. He made to complain at his friend when he felt a warm body shift next to his own. A warm naked body shift next to his own… naked body. Suddenly, memories of the night before flooded into his brain and he cried out as a headache pulsed behind his eyes. Clasping a hand to his face, Ringabel felt it burn all the way to the tips of his ears. Yes, he'd stayed the night with Camelia. And yes, they had gotten to know each other very well, in very primal ways. His stomach clenched unpleasantly, and he whined to himself.

"Ringabel?" The woman beside him sounded alarmed. "What's the matter?" She pushed herself up on her elbow to look down at him, and he peeked at her through his fingers. Though she looked tired, her lips were pursed with concern and her tousled hair tumbled alluringly down her shoulders and chest, drawing his eye to her breasts pooled against the bed beneath her. Though they were both covered below the waist by the rough sheets, he remembered very clearly that birthmark on her inner thigh.

"A headache," he replied, swallowing. Her frown deepened. "I'm not a morning person."

"I'm not either," Camelia admitted. "I suppose we both knew that, though." He let her draw his hand down off his face and tried to give her a shaky smile for it. "Are you … alright? I know it was your first time last night, and… "

"I'm fine," he interrupted, perhaps a bit too hastily, because she raised an eyebrow at him. "I am, really. Just a bit… sore," he decided on. His muscles _were_  protesting the vigorous actions he had put them through. He'd thought himself in better shape than that.

She smiled at him and stretched out with a soft sound. "I'm always sore after a good tumble. What time is it? I… I need to leave for work."

"You should," he said, swallowing. His hand reached over to touch her hip. Soreness aside, his head felt oddly… light. Disconnected from his body. Though he had not, for the first time in a while, had any disturbing dreams, he felt the same rush in his heart as if he had. "And I should return to my friends." He needed to leave.

She nodded, and despite his urge to flee, he didn't try to exit the bed just yet, instead attempting to stretch out some of the stiffness he felt while his mind raced to comprehend it all. His back and shoulders burned as he shifted in the coarse bedsheets, hinting that he had some souvenirs he would be bringing back with him. Crystals… how was he ever going to explain that to his friends? That he'd fallen into bed with a woman - a wonderfully sexy woman - and let himself get carried away? With a sigh, he ran his fingers through his sticky, messy hair, grimacing at the feeling of hair gel sticking to his hand. He normally would never allow himself to be seen in such a state by any woman, and without his pompadour, he felt more than naked than he did without his clothes.

Camelia had no modesty for her nudity, letting the sheets fall off her form as she crossed over to the open restroom door. In the daylight, he could see the marks he had left on her pale skin, and flushed. He'd lost control of himself in his desire.

In the mirror, she noticed him looking at one of the bruises on her hip. "It's alright," she assured him. "I liked your… enthusiasm."

That made his blush a deep scarlet and now he sat up, flinging his legs to the side of the bed so that he could stand. His nudity in the chill air, in front of her, made him feel more naked than he expected, and he was overcome with the desire to be by her, hold her tightly so he wouldn't feel so alone. He joined her in the small bathroom, and ran his hands down her arms, feeling her shiver at his touch.

Bruises marked her neck as well, and he bent now to kiss them. "What will they say?" Goosebumps tickled his lips.

"It's not the first time I've been bruised," she said softly, covering his hands with hers as he moved to cradle her full breasts. His thumbs caressed nipples that stiffened at his touch. "The girls won't say anything, though Stefonie may ask if I liked it."

"Did you?"

"This time? Yes. But not always," she explained, and he felt a pang of anger in his belly; while she had thoroughly explained the risks of her work to him, he still thought it was awful. With a slight growl, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her throat again, hearing her moan softly. "Ringabel, I need to get ready for work. I've a lot of sewing to do today if I'm to meet my deadline for you."

"I'll be quick," he promised, feeling urgent desire mount in him as she shifted. Already his manhood was surging, pressing against the woman's behind. As hesitant as he had been last night, now his body was already moving to action, comfortable with her and aching for her. Last night she had made him feel wonderfully whole, and he wanted that feeling of completeness again, just once more. His newfound sexual urges were strong. He didn't like to do things by halves.

"Please," she pleaded, tilting her head back. He nearly stopped, obeying her request, when she finished her sentence. "Make it quick."

Rather than push him back into the bed, instead she leaned against the wall, opening her thighs slightly. When she glanced over her shoulder, he got the hint and covered her, pressing his chest to her back. He wasn't completely ready yet, as eager as he was, and so he played with her ample breasts instead, tugging on her nipples as he rubbed his burgeoning cock against her sex, the head of it catching on sensitive damp folds and a clit that she reached down to caress in small circles with one hand. His tongue dragged down, then back up her spine, eliciting shivers from the woman, who shifted back against him. Once ready, his full length pulsing with his need and soaked with hers, he took himself in one hand, pressing his cock against her opening, holding her hip with the other.

There was no resistance as he slipped into her, her experienced pussy engulfing him inch by aching inch. Their moans echoed, drawn from deep in their throats as he entered her slowly, relishing the heat and wetness wrapped around him. When he could go no further, when he felt her stretch around his base, he held the position, allowing a feeling of contentment to sweep over him. Her moan was filled his ears, her head falling back until her hair tickled his stomach. Her muscles squeezed around him, encouraging him. All he knew now was her.

Ringabel slipped out and pushed back, lifting her onto her toes and nearly into the wall before her. "Ah!" she cried, bracing herself. "Ringabel!"

The lovely woman was lax around his cock, but that didn't matter. What mattered was the heat around him as he plowed her, punctuated by low groans that tore out of his chest. She moved back against him, her hips meeting his thrust for thrust as she leaned into the wall, crying out his name over and over. Her legs wobbled as she moved; he grasped her hips tightly in both hands to help steady her as their bodies moved in tandem, building to a wild, passionate pace. The small room they were in was amplifying the sounds of their coupling, the wet squelch that was their bodies meeting filling his ears and thundering through his veins. He could feel her pulse loosely around his cock, hammering around him and through him, and hoped she could feel the same. Just as their bodies matched motion for motion, their hearts were beginning to sync as well, and he wondered if their orgasms would. He wanted to feel her come around him, that wonderful sensation of a fluttering, satisfied pussy caressing him.

It wasn't quite at the same time, but he supposed it would be enough. The coil of heat and pleasure that had wound tightly in his stomach was springing undone and his control slipped once more. His eyes squeezed shut as he practically lifted her off her feet to hammer desperately at her hot core, even as he came with a low shout. Realizing far too late that they hadn't used a condom, he attempted to pull out, only to stagger as her legs hooked back around his knees; he had to push her hard against the wall so they could retain their balance and in turn pressed himself deeper into her. One of her hands was frantically rubbing at her clit, and he let out another low moan as he felt her come around him, her muscles milking out his release as a full body shudder coursed through her. Her cry of release filled the air.

Camelia's knees buckled when her feet hit the floor and he grabbed her before she could fall, holding her and caressing her hip as the two of them recovered from their respective orgasms. Now that his frenzy was over, he was making sure to be gentle as he touched her, giving her tender kisses and touches. His chest heaved against her sweaty back as they both fought for breath.

Ringabel found himself reluctant to pull out of her. She felt good around him, her pulse surrounding him in comfortable heat. And yet, he was already flaccid; with a soft sigh he shifted so that his cock slipped out of her silently, splashing drops of his come on the floor between their feet.

"Will that be alright?" he asked, rubbing her hips as he kissed her sweat slicked shoulder. He hadn't even thought about the consequences and the sight of the white fluid on the floor suddenly made him dizzy. 

"It's fine," she assured him once she realized what he meant, and she turned to kiss his cheek. "I can drink a tea. Now really, I need to bathe! Get out!"

Exiled from the bathroom with only a damp towel, he cleaned himself, then picked up his clothing and dressed slowly as his heart rate returned to normal. Once dressed, he went into the kitchen to make her a quick breakfast, using fire magic to heat up the leftover stew so that it would be ready by the time she emerged. He didn't feel right leaving just yet, not when it felt like there was some sort unfinished business between them. Besides, it was men of lesser character who left women without saying goodbye. At the very least, he could do this for, and take some time and water from the sink to try and fix his hair.

When she came out of the bedroom, she was pinning her still damp hair up over her head, her blue eyes widening in surprise as she saw that he'd laid out of breakfast for her.

"Goodness, Ringabel!" she exclaimed, coming over to kiss his cheek. "What a gentleman."

"Think nothing of it," he said, squeezing her waist and giving her one of his patented grins, feeling a bit more steady now. Today, the blue blouse she wore covered her neck and most of her arms, the fabric thick and perhaps a bit too warm for the mild winter weather they were experiencing. The skirt she wore as black and of thinner material, reaching nearly to the floor. Both garments hugged her voluptuous curves despite the modest coverage.

She smiled at him as she began to eat. "That's what you always say."

Last night, things had been awkward around her, but now they felt… almost natural. He sat next to her as she ate, helping her pin up stray strands of hair that had misbehaved for her and taking the opportunity to kiss her along neck. In a devious act, she moved to his lap as she ate, shifting every now and then to send a surge of arousal through him. 

Were she not already running late, he wondered if he would try to bend her over the table. Such an act would have been absolutely unthinkable just six hours ago. And even just an hour ago he had wanted to flee her bed. It was if the more time he spent with her, the more his feelings changed about the act of sex, and about… her.

"I'll see you tonight," she said minutes later. Having finished her breakfast and located her small purse, they were now in front of her door.

"Wait," he said, before she could open it. That odd feeling was back, and he thought he understood what it meant. 

"What is it?"

"Tonight, I'll meet you here," he murmured, wrapping an arm around her. "Please." She flushed, reaching a hand up to his face. Her fingers were cool against his skin. 

"Ringabel, we - I need to work tonight. I can't not work just because you and I are sleeping together."

"I am well aware," he said, and he shook his head. She had to make money, and he wouldn't get in the way of her survival. If that was what she had to do, then… he could share. And it wasn't as if he had any claim on her, he reminded himself hastily. "It's just for this one night. You take breaks now and then, yes? This will be just another one." 

"Aspen will be back home tonight," she said, stroking his face in gentle, reassuring motions as her eyes searched his. "Are you really - I was your first, I was - oh Ringabel, are you certain you want to meet again?"

He did. He wanted more experience with her. How else was he ever going to get over the discomfort he felt in his core when he thought about what they had done last night? He had enjoyed it - greatly - and this morning had told him that last night hadn't been a fluke. When he was with her, he stopped thinking about *everything but the moment, after all. He greatly enjoyed that feeling, and he was certain that if he had more exposure to it, and to her, he would stop feeling so uneasy afterwards and focus on the good. "Then we'll go somewhere else where we can be alone," he decided, and he watched her worry at her bottom lip as she thought. 

"Just one night?" she asked, her eyes meeting his. He could see the longing in her eyes, just as he was sure she could see it in his, and after another moment, she relented. "There's an inn, not far from here. The innkeep is a friend of my mother's and always gives me a discount on the room. I'll let her know I need it for the whole night."

She gave him the directions, and with one final kiss, the two of them parted ways outside her door. Ringabel ignored the glances in his direction and the sounds of people whispering over his disheveled appearance as he headed back to the gates.

Once he returned to the inn where he and his friends had lodged, he found the girls were still in their room. Agnès had already come down for breakfast, but Edea had slept in, and now Agnès was waiting for her and Airy to wake before they went out for brunch, Tiz reported. A cold cup of coffee waited for the blond man on the dresser. He downed it in seconds.

"You smell like…" Tiz's nose wrinkled as Ringabel disrobed in their shared room, tossing his soiled clothes into the laundry bin. He'd wash them later.

"I know," Ringabel remarked. He wondered what Tiz would think of the scratches marring his back and shoulders. "I'm going to take a bath before we eat. Tiz, please don't tell the girls."

Tiz's eyes were wide as he took in the sight of Ringabel's back, and it seemed the younger boy had put two and two together because he flushed hotly now, looking away from the older man. "I won't. But when you leave… is it your lady friend that you're seeing?"

Ringabel raised an eyebrow, pausing as he pawed through his clothing for a shirt he wanted to wear that day. Tiz had noticed? ... Of course Tiz had noticed. Tiz, light sleeper that he was, noticed if there was even a sneeze at night. "It is," he admitted, then added. "Oh, and I'd like you all to meet her and her sister for lunch next Sunsday. They deserve a good meal."

"Huh? Oh, okay. We could do that - the more the merrier," Tiz replied, his face still red. After a moment, he added, "Do you like her a lot?"

Ringabel's back was once again turned to the room as he tried to decide which blue shirt he wanted to wear; he preferred brighter colors but the navy blue polo in his hands reminded of the midnight sky, and the darkness of Camelia's eyes in the bedroom. "I am sure," he said, though there was an odd feeling settling in his stomach that wasn't his coffee. Outside of that dim shack, with his friends around, something felt… different. "She's a wonderful, sweet girl." That, at least, was true.

"She seemed nice," Tiz mused aloud. "If you're getting serious about her, I'm sure Agnès and Edea would like to meet her, too."

"Thanks, Tiz. I'll meet you all downstairs, then."

The hot bath hurt the scratches on his back, but finished the job of waking him. As soon as he was dressed and feeling more like himself again, he went to eat brunch with his friends before they returned to the inn to work on their own projects. Agnès was trying to finish a Crystalist book she had borrowed from the Matriarch, Tiz was working on clearing out their expired potion stock, and Edea had wanted to go shopping after the weekly stock refresher for new fashions. Ringabel went with her, still trying to feel more like the person he'd been the day before. 

Any time with Edea would do that just nicely. And for a time, he nearly forgot all about Camelia as the two of them shopped together, trying out different clothes and picking up accessories for use both on and off the battlefield. Nearly. Every dress that he saw, he imagined the older woman wearing it, how it would look clinging to her curvy figure. Her favorite color was a particular shade of pink she had complained she could never wear because it clashed with her hair color, and whenever he saw it in on a dress or a purse, his heart quickened. Did Camelia ever shop for clothes or did she always make her own? Would she accept a dress as a gift from him? Try as he might, he had to admit he was more than a little distracted even as he laughed with Edea, joked with his beloved, and dutifully carried her bags.

"So, Ringabel, tell me all about this girl," Edea told him as they settled down for a late lunch. At brunch, he had asked that his friends join him and Camelia for lunch on Sunsday, and though Airy had fussed, the others had easily agreed. Edea had been drilling him about her ever since; it was rare for her to take an interest in his girlfriends, but he supposed it was also rare that he willingly brought them around the group.

He sighed patiently. "Did I not tell you earlier? Her name is Camelia and she's a tailor at the shop Tiz and I went to yesterday." He had also given them the sanitized version of how he and Camelia had met, just in case it came up.

"I remember that! She must be good if you're trusting her with the mending. We're paying a lot for it, don't forget."

"She is the best," he assured her. He wasn't worried about the quality of her stitches as long as the work was sturdy. The clothes were just going to get torn and cut in other areas, anyway. Mending them saved money in the long run, that was all, until the clothes had to be thrown out and replaced. "If you'd like, why don't you come with me Goldday when I pick them up? I need another set of hands, and she wants to meet you."

"You told her about me?" Edea raised an eyebrow as she looked up from the menu. "Why?" 

Ringabel was playing with the paper napkin that had come with their utensils, shredding it into tiny bits. "... Why wouldn't I? You are important to me, my dear, and she listens well when I talk. We meet often and chat for hours."

"You've been meeting her?" The girl across from him looked surprised. "Why didn't you just say she was your girlfriend?"

"She isn't, really," he replied, flushing. After last night, he supposed they could be considered *lovers, but they weren't actually… dating, were they? They hadn't talked about being a couple, at least, though thinking about it now he - he wasn't opposed to the idea… and after all, he was more familiar with having a girlfriend than having a lover. It was so much easier. "We just talk. In any case, after all the stories I've told, she's simply dying to meet my angel."

"They better have been good stories," Edea threatened him, then turned to the waiter with a smile as she ordered five separate things from the menu. He requested coffee and a bowl of pumpkin spice soup. The name reminded him of the tea that Camelia had given him, so he hoped it would taste the same.

"I only have good stories about you," he replied her once they were again alone. "She's a bit nervous, truthfully."

"Nervous? Why?"

"Er," Ringabel said, because Camelia had been nervous about his friends finding out about her night job and what they would think about a woman who freely sold her body as goods. Explaining that would mean explaining how they met. "She doesn't get out much," he decided on, and Edea seemed too preoccupied with the sweet shake she was drinking to notice him sweat. "She works two jobs to make ends meet, which is why I'm treating both her and her younger sister to lunch." He prayed Edea wouldn't ask about the second job because he no idea what to say.

"That's nice of you," Edea said, startled. "You've dated plenty of girls, but to include her little sister is … sweet. I'm sure they'll both appreciate it."

He beamed at her, pleased with the compliment. "It's hard to be alone here, I know that well. She's got it a bit hard, so I want to do what I can to ease her burden."

The look she gave him almost made his smile slip off his lips; he just barely kept it forced on. Her eyes were knowing and sympathetic. "A noble cause, Ringabel," the girl said, nodding her approval. "Once we've fully burned the Blood Rose Legion out, I hope her situation will continue to improve."

"Yes," he agreed readily, going back to shredding the paper. "I'm sure that it will."

Once the Blood Rose Legion was out and the Florem sense of community was back, she could find more support and help. And once the economy had recovered from the Duchy operations, perhaps she could even branch out and find other jobs that paid more, or at the very least, did not involve selling her body.

The topic changed from Camelia to the other shops Edea was interested in visiting after they were done with their meal, and the knot in his stomach untied itself. They chatted amicably throughout as they ate, lifting his spirits in a way he hadn't felt since the previous day. Edea was like the sun, her smile warm and bright and sincere. The light from it, and her laughter, and even her occasionally stinging words reached deep into the recesses of his heart and covered it. How he felt around her was almost the same as the way he'd felt with the other woman the previous night, forgetful of his past and the pain that came hand in hand. But whereas Edea was the warmth of the sun, nourishing despite its harshness, Camelia was the light of the moon, subdued and haunting in the darkness. 

He'd been so used to the darkness as a child - as a Dark Knight - that the sun had been unattainable as much as desired. The moon was more familiar, and a comforting sight, but… he knew he needed the sun to live.

When they returned that evening to the hotel with several bags, there was hardly time to dwell on the conflicting emotions within him. As soon as Edea's purchases were deposited in the girls' inn room, the foursome decided to go out for dinner to make plans for the rest of their week. Florem, for some reason, boasted monsters that still challenged them despite the long months that they had been fighting, their strength increasing with each battle, and Agnès was toying with the idea of continuing to train themselves a bit more before traveling across the world to the Fire Temple.

"After all," she said with a frown at the napkin in her lap. "The Crystal Beasts have been increasing in strength each time. I see no reason why we should not do the same."

"We haven't found DeRosa or Einheria yet either," Edea pointed out from beside her with a heavy sigh. She stirred her vegetable noodles with her fork. "When we went to his lab, it was empty. You don't think he's fled, have you?"

"No," Ringabel replied. "Even he wouldn't flee the area. We went during the daytime, remember? He's likely hiding out elsewhere in the city, now that we've destroyed his lab. We just have to find him. Perhaps I could ask Camelia if she's seen him around." Privately, he hoped that she had never laid eyes on the bastard.

"Would she have seen him?" Agnès asked, confused. She too, knew all about Ringabel's newest friend.

"I'm not sure," he replied honestly, shaking his head. "But - But she does stay out late occasionally, so she may well have spotted him. You have to admit that he's recognizable, even from a distance."

"That's true," Edea conceded, nodding at him. "I'm also surprised the Venus Sisters haven't showed back up, even after all the squads of their soldiers we've defeated. They must be out on a mission." Mephilia could not be located in the gardens, and Artemia was not among the snake corpses they had found. They knew the women were alive and active, according to the Blood Rose Legion members they had fought, but none of the soldiers would say where they *were*.

"We shouldn't take too long," Airy reminded them from where she lounged at the edge of Agnès's plate. "The Fire Crystal needs us."

"We won't," Agnès assured her with a smile. 

"We always have trouble with Chaugmar," Ringabel reminded them all, a shadow crossing his face. Indeed, they very well could have died the first time, had Tiz not thought to use one of his Salvemaker creations. The second time had been even worse. "If he's going to be any stronger, I want to be prepared."

"Agreed," Edea said with a shudder. Agnès nodded gravely as well.

"Tomorrow, let's go into the gardens and spend the day fighting there," Tiz suggested, finally speaking up. He had been invested in his salmon and potatoes dish and content to watch his friends. 

"Wait - not tomorrow," Ringabel protested as the girls chorused in their approval. When all three of his companions looked at him, plus the fairy, he flushed. "I... " He could not explain that he had plans for the evening, and had no idea how much sleep he would actually get. If they were going to be fighting, he wanted to be well rested. "The day after? We… we should pick up more supplies and look at the shops if we're to spend the whole day in the gardens. It is a long walk back to the city and you know that Datz dislikes anchoring Grandship so close to structures." Datz was getting better at piloting every day, but there were still some things he preferred in Ringabel's more experienced hands.

"That's true," Tiz said, but the glance he shot Ringabel out of the corner of his eye said something else. "We had a lot of expired potions I had to throw out today. We should buy more, or at least buy the ingredients for Salvemaker." 

"We have Agnès's white magic," Edea flapped her hand. Airy made a noise of protest.

"And if Agnès gets silenced, or is drained? She can't heal us every time, dear," Ringabel piped in, relieved that there was actually a good excuse for a delay. He'd known there had to be something!

"We'd have more potions if you and Edea would sort them properly and use them before they went bad," Tiz pointed out to the older man, who gasped, drawing a hand to his chest.

"My system is perfectly fine just the way it is! It's certainly not my fault that we pick up so many dropped from our enemies! Who can keep track of them all?"

Agnès was smiling at Ringabel and Tiz both. "I'll go with you tomorrow, Tiz. I'd like to see if I can find a new staff to use."

"Oh, weapons? I'll go too," Edea decided quickly. "We can look at the armor too; I heard a shipment from Ancheim came in last week. Maybe we'll find a helmet big enough to cover Ringabel's gigantic head. Can we make it sparkle? That might draw DeRosa out of hiding."

"I am being bullied," Ringabel wailed. "Bullied!"

Their laughter was medicine to his conflicted soul. Here were his true companions, a family forged through blood and battle, whom he loved dearly. Looking around at them, sharing their smiles, he felt a sense of belonging that was still somewhat new to him, a sense he held onto tightly. When they left Florem, it would be together.

As night fell, Ringabel paced in his hotel room. He knew where to meet Camelia, he just - didn't know when! Sometimes she slept after her day job; would she sleep today? What if he was late? What if he was too early and he had to hang around the lobby looking distressingly uncool? He could try to go to her home first, but what if he missed her and then she waited in the lobby for him and thought he'd stood her up? He had never stood a woman up before! He couldn't now!

"Ringabel, sit down," Tiz complained. "You're making me dizzy."

Ringabel sat down heavily on the edge of his bed. The bed that he would not be using tonight but had still been refreshed by housekeeping.

"Are you okay? You've been jumpy all day." Tiz was lounging on his own bed in a rare state of relaxation, as if content to let Ringabel do the fretting for both of them. 

"I slept with Camelia last night," the older boy blurted out.

"I… noticed. You didn't exactly try to hide it. Is that a problem?"

"No, that's not the problem," Ringabel hastened to clarify. "There's no problem at all, truly. I do very much enjoy her company, and she is quite kind. Hard working as well. You and the girls will like her as well, I'm sure." He hoped. They had not always been approving of his past girlfriends that he had brought around, but Camelia was cut from a more humble cloth.

"Any friend of yours is a friend of ours," Tiz said. Then he paused before continuing, voice casual. "You're really serious about her, then."

Ringabel looked over at him. Tiz was sitting up now, his expression carefully neutral. Sometimes, like now, Ringabel cursed Tiz's ability to keep a straight face. He should be using it for good, like talking to Airy, not evil!

"I am," he finally replied when he realized Tiz wasn't letting him off the hook. "Well, as serious as I can be in our situation. Camelia knows that we'll be leaving soon, I've made that quite clear to her. In the meantime, though... "

Tiz did not interrupt him. As seconds passed, Ringabel continued.

"She wouldn't know Alternis from a fly on the wall. She knows only me, *Ringabel*, and likes me for who I am. It's nice, to have someone who likes you for who you are. You should know all about that, Tiz." He sent a sly smile in Tiz's direction.

That got a reaction from Tiz. "I don't know what you mean," Tiz flushed. 

"Of course you don't. In any case, I'll be fine. There's nothing to worry about; once we leave I'm sure things will be back to normal." Once they left Florem, he wouldn't have Camelia on his mind. Edea would be the only woman for him, as she deserved to be, and he would be happy for it.

"Do you think things are weird now?" Tiz asked, tilting his head.

"No, not at all!"  Ringabel inhaled. "They're not weird, just - different. I _am_  devoted to Edea, you know, even if it may not seem like it. Camelia is another girl… nothing more and nothing less. It's nice to have company while I wait for my beloved to realize she wants to jump into my arms." He nodded.

"...If you say so."

While he liked talking to Tiz - especially recently - to clear his head, he didn't think he could take any more of these questions. And he had a place to be, a perfect excuse for him to leave. "I should be heading off, then. I'm staying with her tonight."

"Again?" Tiz stared at him for a long moment, then climbed off his bed and began to rummage through his pack. Ringabel wondered if he should do the same; yes, he should probably bring a change of clothes, or at least a change of shirt? Maybe underwear? What did one bring in this situation? Oh, what if he should bring flowers for her? He hadn't bought any!

"Here," the younger boy said, distracting him from where he'd gone to rummage through his underclothes. Ringabel had barely turned around before a small box was pushed against his chest, and he caught it before he fell.

. . .

He hoped Tiz got satisfaction out of the way his face colored when he read the letters on the box, because he was certain it was a horribly dark shade of red that clashed with his clothes.  " _Really_ , Tiz?!" Hadn't they had enough of these conversations?!

"I speak for all of us when I say we want you to be careful," Tiz insisted, his face showing only the slightest hint of pink. "Okay?"

"I… will be careful. I am careful," he amended. "No need to worry about us. Camelia is a professional; she has plenty."

"A - what?"

Ringabel's face went white. "I'll just take a few," he amended quickly. "I need to leave some for you and your special girl, don't I?"

He did not want to be around when Tiz finished processing what Ringabel had just let slip out his mouth like an utter _moron_. Nodding to Tiz curtly, he crammed the box into a small bag, along with a pair of clean underwear, his journal, and his wallet - probably all he needed - he swept past the other boy and slammed the door shut behind him.

Edea and Agnès, along with Airy, were in the hallway and both girls gaped at him. Judging by the wetness of their hair, they had just come back from the hot baths. He cursed, loudly.

"Language," Edea said absently, then looked him over, noting the bag in his hand. "Are you going out right now?"

"Yes," he replied, nodding. "I…I wanted to go out drinking tonight. I'll be back later." He hated lying to them, absolutely abhorred it, but he did not want to really explain what was going on to them. He didn't have time to make them understand.

Edea was still getting used to his change in demeanor, the serious way he spoke and talked now; since arriving in this word he had made fewer and fewer inane comments with empty words designed to fill an empty mind. He was certain that she would understand his need for friendship and stability as he grappled with figuring out his identity.  Agnès would understand that, too. However, he was not sure if they would entirely approve of this new method, and besides, he was reluctant to share details on this with them for more than one reason. As for Airy, she did not need any more ammunition in her attempts to remove him from the party, and would use Agnès's reservations against him, he worried.

While none of them really liked his drinking habits, he was of age, and didn't let his drinking interfere with battle. So long as he continued to be responsible with his nights out, and performed as good as always in battle, they let him have that one vice.

"Be careful," Edea called as he moved past them. Agnès watched him, looking concerned as she always was when he went out to drown his sorrows in drink, but waved her hand at him all the same. "Goodnight!"

His head was pounding with shame, at both his lies and how he had let Camelia's secret slip out like that. There was really no dishonor in what she did considering why she did it, he believed that, but he was certain there were better ways of telling his friends about her profession. Tiz was no idiot - the Norende boy may have been naive, but he would easily figure it out with some time. And when he did… Ringabel was already running through all the imaginary lectures he would get.

Luckily, he knew Tiz was a trustworthy soul. It had been for that reason he had confided in his past as Alternis Dim to the other boy after all; until Ringabel was ready to confront it, Tiz would keep this secret too.


End file.
